#please look at full warning list and heed warnings before engaging

[eugene-not-flynn]

Bouclier

Summary: When Rapunzel and Eugene are both kidnapped, Eugene will do whatever he can to try to protect Rapunzel.Including making himself a larger, more insufferable target of their aggression. Mostly a Eugene angst/hurt/comfort whump fic. 

Word count: 6798

Warnings: kidnapping/hostage situation, blood, injury, descriptions of pain, heavily implied that pain is also inflicted on rapunzel but it’s “off camera” and to a lesser extent, protective!Eugene, protective!Rapunzel, Varian makes an appearance and other TTS character are mentioned, angst/hurt/comfort elements, threats, cursing, weapons, stabbing, some tears, happy/hopeful ending. 

A/N: This is like, five to six times longer than I thought it would be when I started. Woops. It’s also a bit darker than I was originally intending. Please, please heed warnings. I feel like I owe Eugene an apology after this, lowkey. Edited by yours truly so all mistakes are mine. 

Read on AO3

...

The fist that connects with the side of Eugene’s jaw makes the room spin for a moment. His mouth floods with the taste of warm copper. He spits the mouthful of blood at the thug’s feet, flexing his grip against the rope bindings that keep him strapped to the chair. The move is met with a throaty growl and a fist in his hair, yanking his head back.

“Don’t touch him!” Rapunzel demands, giving a sharp jerk against her own restraints. Eugene feels his own chair—back to back with Rapunzel’s—rattle a bit from the force.

The cell they’d been kept in for the past couple of days is relatively small, and smells of the mildew that clings to the damp stone around them. Eugene and Rapunzel had been kidnapped in the middle of the night during what was supposed to be a romantic vacation to the northern part of the kingdom. So much for that.

“Barely felt it,” Eugene quips, quirking an eyebrow at his most recent assailant. “But I get it. Wouldn’t want to risk breaking nail, y’know.”

The other man towers over Eugene, with short cropped hair and a scent that reeks of rotting vegetables. He gives a sharp jerk at Eugene’s hair, and it’s only by sheer willpower that Eugene doesn’t grimace at the sharp pain. The other man snarls. “I’d watch your mouth, pretty boy.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty.” Eugene meets his eyes, his glare not matching his overly cheery tone. “I’m flattered. Truly.”

That earns him the sharp blade of a war axe suddenly under his chin. “You’re a right pain in my ass, Flynn Rider.”

“Yeah, well. Get in line.”

The edge of the axe presses a bit more insistently at his throat. Eugene knows that if he breathes too deeply, it will break skin. The other man bares yellowing teeth. “You’re lucky that boss has you under strict no-kill orders or I’d have half a mind to take your head clean off.”

“Oh, I feel lucky,” Eugene replies dryly. “More time for us to spend together. And who would want to miss out on that? Not me, that’s for sure—”

“Boss said nothing about roughing you up, though. So I’d think very carefully about the next words that leave your mouth.”

Rapunzel’s voice sends a jolt of panic through him. “Eugene—”

“Oh, you had to go and ruin the moment with a threat,” Eugene interrupts quickly. He’s hoping that the sudden fear stays off his face. “And it was such a lovely moment, too.”

The thug moves so fast that Eugene doesn’t even have time to brace for it. A flash of movement, blinding pain across his temple that whips his head to the side, and then the sight of a bloodied axe hilt in the other man’s hand. Eugene tries to blink the stars from his vision, unsure if he’s imagining the laugh from the other man or if it’s just the ringing in his ears.

Rapunzel yells something—strained and angry and desperate—but Eugene can barely hear her. His vision is still swimming and for a moment, Eugene thinks he might be about to pass out again. He’s distantly aware that his assailant says something sharply in response to her, stepping out of Eugene’s spotty vision.

A fresh wave of panic squeezes like a steel band around Eugene’s chest. He opens his mouth to say something—anything—when the door opens.

“Oi!” A different voice barks from the doorway. “Boss wants to see us.”

Not a new voice, Eugene realizes as the ringing has started to ease. He recognizes the voice from yesterday. The demand is met with a groan of annoyance, but the man follows obediently out the door, sparing a dark glare that Eugene returns with equal contempt before the door slams shut. Eugene waits for the footsteps to recede before he lets his face twist into a grimace of pain against the throbbing in his head.

Still, he keeps his tone as light as he can manage, his stomach twisting a bit with concern. “You okay, Sunshine?”

Rapunzel doesn’t answer right away. Eugene wishes—for not the first time—that he could see her face. He hears Rapunzel sigh.

“I should be asking you that.”

“Me? I’m right as rain.”

“Eugene.”

“Okay,” he relents slightly. “So maybe old Moldy-Breath gave me a bit of a headache. But it’s all good.” As long as they didn’t hurt you, Eugene adds silently.

“It’s not all good. Nothing about it is good,” Rapunzel snaps. “I… Eugene, you keep antagonizing them, and… and I…” her voice chokes off. Eugene swallows as she takes a breath. He can’t apologize. Not when he knows he plans to keep doing it. Rapunzel clears her throat. “We need a plan. Any ideas?”

“An escape plan?” Eugene asks. Because his plan to protect Rapunzel did not yet involve escape but did involve keeping attention on himself whenever one or more of their captors were in the room. Rapunzel had described it as ‘antagonizing them’, but Eugene liked to think of it as using everything in his arsenal to keep her safe. Including his smart mouth.

Eugene continues. “Can’t say I do. My hands are—heh—tied. Literally.” He flexes against the rope again.

“Pascal went to get Max during the ambush,” Rapunzel continues softly, as if thinking out loud. “But I don’t know how they’re going to find us.”

“If I know one thing, it’s that your parents will move heaven and earth to find you,” Eugene says, hoping that the sentiment is reassuring.

Rapunzel hums in response, and Eugene thinks that maybe—just maybe—he hears the faintest trace of a smile in the sound.

“I don’t want to just wait around hoping you’re right,” she replies, that familiar edge of determination sparking in her voice. “There’s got to be some way out.”

Eugene’s eyes flit around the part of the room that he can see. A single wooden door directly ahead of him is the only way in or out, as far as he can tell. The stone walls, floor, and ceiling doesn’t offer much in the way of hope for escape. From the squares of light on the far wall, Eugene knows there’s a window on the wall behind him. But gauging from the size of those patches of light, there isn’t a prayer that either one of them can escape through it. Pascal would’ve been able to fit, but not a human person.

“That door is our only ticket out of here,” Eugene says quietly. “Unless you see something I don’t.”

“I don’t—”

Rapunzel cuts off at the jingle of keys outside the door. The lock clicks. The door creaks open.

“Welcome back!” Eugene says brightly, his gaze quickly sweeping over the gruff man that steps into the room. He’s large—several inches taller than Eugene even if he’d been standing—but it’s the bloodthirsty look in his sharp blue eyes that makes Eugene swallow. Eugene remembers him from two days ago, and just how hard he could hit.

Then Eugene catches sight of the key attached loosely at his belt, and a plan starts to form.

“You know,” Eugene adds conversationally, “I was starting to get a little lonely.”

“I think you’ll find that you want to be quiet, Rider.” The voice is a low, rumbling sound that reminds Eugene vaguely of thunder.

“Ah, quiet is not something I’ve ever been particularly good at.” Eugene sees the clench in the man’s jaw. Push, push, push. “Just like you’ve never been particularly good at throwing a punch. We all have our strengths.”

The flash in his eyes is all the warning Eugene has before the fist connects solidly in Eugene’s gut, forcing the air from his lungs. He chokes off with a wheeze, coughing as he gasps in a breath. The corner of the other man’s lips curls up in a satisfied smirk.

“Eugene!” Rapunzel cries out.

Push more, Eugene tells himself as he catches his breath. He flashes a smile up at the other man, and there’s a vindictive sort of satisfaction as Eugene sees his brow furrow in confusion.

“You’ll forgive me if I’m not all that impressed,” Eugene quips, “given that it’s hardly a fair fight. Tied up like this, I’m really just a glorified punching bag. Anyone could land a half-way decent punch.”

The other man flashes teeth in a snarl, and Eugene knows that he’s on the right track.

“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you!”

“Eh, no points for originality there either.” Eugene shrugs. “I’m just saying, you’re only proving something if it’s a fair fight. Otherwise, it seems a little like you’re overcompensating.”

“Eugene, please,” Rapunzel begs, something sharp in her tone. Eugene pretends it doesn’t send a twist of guilt through his gut.

The guilt is replaced quickly as Eugene realizes that the first part of his plan has worked. The other man growls, pointing a dagger under his chin—which makes Eugene very nearly roll his eyes because didn’t they have some other trick in their book?—but then he starts untying Eugene’s hands. Eugene doesn’t make any sudden moves, the cool steel of the knife grazing his chin.

“You want a fair fight?” the other man growls. In one lightning flash motion, the dagger is sheathed and a fist connects with Eugene’s jaw hard enough to knock him out of the chair. Eugene tumbles ungracefully to the floor. He wipes at the blood of his now-split lip, the sting of copper fresh on his tongue.

“You know, I admire a man who doesn’t pull his punches.” Eugene pushes himself to his feet, the room still spinning a bit.

“Who says I wasn’t pulling that punch?” the other man challenges with a grin.

Eugene swings a punch of his own, intentionally a bit wide. Eugene knows that he cannot win this fight anyway—the man is much bigger, and Eugene isn’t sure he could seriously take him fisticuffs on a good day let alone in his current condition—but he has to get the man to underestimate him first. That is, if he’s going to let Eugene get up close and personal.

Eugene’s right hook is blocked easily and retaliated with a fist to his stomach that drops him to one knee.

“Wait--!” Rapunzel says, straining to look over her shoulder.

Eugene doesn’t. He charges his full weight towards him, and the man braces for it. Eugene manages to send him stumbling back a step, but only one, and Eugene is promptly shoved back and against the wall. A large, meaty hand closes around his throat just enough to make it hard to breathe.

“Is that all you got, Rider?” the man growls. “You’re downright pathetic.”

Eugene sees his opening. He swings—wide and weak—with his left hand towards the man’s face while his right hand drops to the other man’s hip where he keeps the key. His blow is easy to see coming, but it’s also the perfect misdirection. As the other man blocks the blow with his free hand—the one not slowly crushing Eugene’s windpipe—Eugene uses his right hand to deftly slip the key from the belt loop and slips it into his sleeve to conceal it from view.

“So maybe I’m a little out of practice,” Eugene wheezes. Then he drives his own knee up into the other man’s gut. It’s not much in the way of blows, but it’s enough to get him to let go of his throat. Eugene gasps, his legs almost giving out from under him.

He’s barely stood up straight before something smashes into the left side of his ribcage and sends him sprawling. Eugene can’t help the sharp cry that breaks from his throat as he’s sent sprawling. A swift kick to his ribs forces the rest of the air from his lungs and Eugene thinks hazily that he felt something give way.

He curses under his breath, struggling up onto his hands and knees to drag air into his lungs.

“Cursing in front of royalty, Rider?” the other man sneers, his voice from somewhere above him.

Eugene opens his eyes, realizing that the blow had sent him sprawling to the other side of the room. He can see Rapunzel now. Her horror-stricken eyes meet his, but she looks unharmed and Eugene figures that’s something. In fact, her face is the best thing he’s seen in days. His heart flutters a little. Help her get out at all costs.

Eugene stumbles towards her a step, closing his left hand over her right. “Forgive me,” he says, and a part of him means it, even though he’s not really apologizing for the cursing. He lets the key in his sleeve slip down his palm and into hers. Rapunzel’s eyes grow wider in understanding and surprise, her fingers folding deftly over the object as Eugene turns away from her.

Eugene prepares himself to charge back at the man when the door opens again and three other thugs charge in. One of them looks to be a bit cleaner than the others—dark hair, a well-trimmed goatee, and sharp eyes—and his gaze zeroes in on Eugene the moment he steps through the door.

“What’s this?” he demands, but his voice is icy cold. “Subdue him.”

Eugene opens his mouth to respond, but suddenly two of the men in the room rush him and he’s slammed against the wall, pinned in place. Eugene coughs as the sharp pain in his ribs flare at the collision against the stone. Eugene struggles against their grip, but it’s useless.

“I was showing Rider that he’s not as great as he thinks he is,” the man he’d been fighting with previously growls.

The man with the goatee rolls his eyes. “Childish,” he chides, but his gaze doesn’t waver from Eugene. “Though from the looks of it, you were more than winning that fight.”

“I think I got a few licks in—” Eugene cuts off when one of the men’s grip on him tightens.

“Hm.” The goatee man’s gaze lingers a moment longer before it flickers to Rapunzel and narrows in interest. Eugene feels his blood run cold.

“I’d be happy to try three on one,” Eugene says suddenly, desperate to drag the attention back to him.

“Oh, there’s no need for that, Flynn. Can I call you Flynn?”

“Well, actually—”

“Take her,” the man cuts Eugene off with a wave of his hand, addressing the other man—roughly the size of Atilla, Eugene thinks idly. The man crosses to Rapunzel, and Eugene feels his chest clench with sudden panic as he realizes what’s about to happen.

“No!” he demands, wrenching his shoulders from the other men’s grip so suddenly and so fiercely that he slips from their grasp for a moment. He lurches towards her, but hands are on him and pulling him back in less than second.

“Eugene—” Rapunzel starts to say, her wide green eyes meeting his before she’s met with a cloth gag around her mouth, cutting off the rest of her words. The man then unties her wrists, and Eugene’s heart is already thundering in his chest but it gives a small jump when he moves to the hand that has the key. Rapunzel already has slipped it down her own sleeve, apparently, and Eugene counts it as a small mercy.

The second her hands and feet are free, Rapunzel strikes out, her eyes flaring with indignation. The man’s head barely moves from the blow to his jaw, and Rapunzel tries to shove him back but he is at least twice her weight and the move barely budges him.

“Rapunzel!”

She’s grabbed around her arms and lifted by the man and Eugene thrashes but he can’t get free. Rapunzel’s fighting as best she can as she’s carried to the door, but she’s exhausted and dehydrated and woefully outmatched. She yells something behind the gag that sounds like his name before the door slams shut.

“No!” Eugene wonders if his voice sounds as ragged as he thinks it does. “You can’t take her!”

“I think you’ll find, Flynn Rider,” the man with the goatee says, infuriatingly calm, “that we can do whatever we wish.”

He gives a curt nod. Eugene doesn’t even see the blow coming before the world goes black.

…

Eugene blinks his eyes open. “Rapunzel?” he asks blearily, before he remembers what had happened.

He jolts to awareness with a start as the memories flood back to him. It’s then that he realizes that he’s not even sitting in a chair. He’s still restrained, but it’s by shackles rather than rope. His eyes follow the short chains to where they’re anchored to the wall. He thinks he’s probably in the same cell as before, but the chairs in the middle of the room have been discarded. It’s empty.

Empty. No Rapunzel. There’s an odd, caving kind of feeling in Eugene’s chest.

He sighs and swallows. He got her the key to the door. Since the man only had one key, Eugene figures there’s probably a decent chance that all the cells open with the same key. So wherever they took her, she probably still had a chance to escape. If she’s still alive, something hisses in Eugene’s mind.

Eugene shakes his head quickly. Of course she’s still alive. Rapunzel is the most resilient person he knows, and besides. They’d been taken as leverage against the Crown. Eugene hadn’t been dealing with the shady side of business in the kingdom for long before he’d learned that dead leverage was no leverage at all. And Rapunzel was certainly a bigger bargaining chip than himself. So if he was still alive, then Rapunzel was still alive.

The rationalization does very little to assuage the leaden weight in his stomach.

How many days had they been here? Eugene was beginning to lose track. Four? Seven? Three? Something like that. When Rapunzel was here, he’d been able to focus his attention on her. Protecting her in the ways he was able whenever they weren’t alone and trying to make her smile when they were. Keep her spirits high. Although Eugene knows that really, if he’s being honest, Rapunzel had been doing more to keep his spirits high than the other way around.

Now she’s gone. Eugene is alone with his thoughts, and a grim part of him realizes that he doesn’t want that to be true. Not knowing what was happening to Rapunzel was far, far worse than weathering a few punches and the recurring knife-to-his-throat.

Why did they separate them? Eugene doesn’t know. He’s not sure he’ll like the answer, if he ever finds out.

He sighs, letting his head rest gingerly against the stone wall behind him. He watches the sunlight filter through the tiny window above him, dust and dirt particles floating in the streak of light that streams into the room. His eyes drift closed and he thinks about trying to go back to sleep.

He’s nearly asleep, actually, when the sound of the door opening pulls him from consciousness. He stays still, keeps his eyes closed, and tracks the sound of footsteps moving into the room. Two sets, as far as Eugene can tell.

“We know you’re awake,” one of them says. Eugene recognizes the voice. Goatee, he thinks. His blood turns hot with anger.

Eugene quirks an eyebrow and doesn’t open his eyes yet. “Well I am now. I was trying to catch some beauty sleep. A face this pretty doesn’t happen without some effort, you know.” He cracks an eye open.

Goatee—as Eugene had taken to calling him—is standing above him. The other man is someone Eugene doesn’t recognize, about his size if a little bit taller, but he stays back by the door. Goatee sneers down, flashing white teeth in the dark.

“You’ll find, Mr. Rider, that I am not as easily goaded into displays of aggression as my employees.”

A sharp retort—you employ them? What kind of benefits do you offer?—is on the tip of his tongue, but Eugene doesn’t let it slip. His lack of a filter before was to protect Rapunzel. Now? Well, now there wasn’t much reason for him to say anything. Eugene resolutely keeps his mouth shut, glaring up at his captor.

Goatee arcs an eyebrow. “No smart remark this time? Hm. I’ll admit, I’m disappointed.”

Eugene thinks about demanding to know what they did with Rapunzel. But he has a feeling that he wouldn’t get an answer, and certainly not one he could trust. Besides, he knows he’s really not in any position to be demanding much of anything.

“The silent treatment?” Goatee continues after a moment’s pause when Eugene still says nothing. “Pity. Though I think you’ll come to realize that we have ways of making you talk.” With sharp movements, Goatee drops to one knee and presses a hand against Eugene’s ribs. It sends a flash of heat and pain tearing through his side and a strangled gasp escapes him before he can think to stifle it. He curls around himself and Goatee lets him, pulling his hand away. He stays crouched, close to eye-level with him now.

Eugene can feels his cold, calculating stare on him as he manages to catch his breath. “What do you want to know?” Eugene growls, keeping one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs. “You haven’t even asked anything yet.”

“I want to know everything, Flynn Rider. Corona’s weaknesses, its strengths, troop movements, battle strategies. I want it all.”

“I thought you wanted us for ransom,” Eugene shoots back through a grimace.

“I wanted the princess for ransom,” Goatee corrects. “I wanted the Captain of the Guard for information.”

“You won’t get it,” Eugene grits out as he tries to sit up a bit more. “Not from me.”

“We’ll see about that.” He pulls something out of his belt and Eugene sees the flash of steel in the limited sunlight. “Do you know what this is, Flynn?”

Eugene gives him a dry look. His ribcage is still burning, but it’s starting to settle back into that familiar throb. “If you’re going to threaten me with a knife, I’m afraid your employees have beaten you to it. Several times, in fact. Do you all take the same training course?”

“It’s a stiletto dagger,” Goatee continues as if he hadn’t heard Eugene at all. “When used with finesse, it can inflict tremendous pain. And well. I train all of my men on it very well.” He leans in then, grinning wickedly.

A chill runs down Eugene’s spine but he does his best to keep it off his face. “I’ve kind of already done the whole ‘being stabbed’ thing, as much as I hate to burst your bubble.”

“Ah, but has your princess?”

Eugene’s stomach rolls and he opens his mouth to say something when he’s cut off by a sound. A scream, and even though it’s distant, Eugene’s head spins with its familiarity. Rapunzel. His blood turns to ice. His vision goes red.

Eugene lunges towards Goatee but he’s already backed out of reach and the chains rattle sharply as they yank Eugene back to the wall. Goatee studies Eugene, his expression not changing from the detached, almost intrigued expression on his face.

“Let her go!”

“Hm,” Goatee hums, unphased. “Fascinating. We’ll be in touch.”

“No--!” But they’ve left the room, letting the door slam closed and Eugene swears that Rapunzel’s scream is still echoing in the space around him.

…

Eugene jolts awake to the sound of crashing and shouting somewhere off in the distance on the other side of the door. The cell around him is dark, and it takes a moment for Eugene’s eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Dim sunlight had still been filtering through the tiny window above him when he’d fallen asleep, so he guesses that it’s some time in the middle of the night.

Eugene can’t make out the voices that are shouting, and doesn’t dare venture a guess as to what the commotion is all about. He couldn’t make use of the chaos even if he wanted to, he thinks, glancing down at the iron shackles around his wrists. He tugs on it experimentally, but the tight manacles are cutting sharply into his skin that is already rubbed raw from his struggle against them earlier. In his blind desperation to get to Rapunzel, after hearing…

Eugene does his best to straighten up, wincing at the jolt of pain from his ribs. Definitely broken, he thinks. He’d dealt with broken ribs enough to know them when he felt them.

He thinks of Rapunzel. He tries to picture her face rather than the echo of her scream from earlier in the day that still reverberates in his mind. Of the soft look in her green eyes every time she said his name. Rapunzel has the key to the door. Eugene fears asking for too much, but he hopes fervently that she’s able to take advantage of whatever chaos is ensuing on the other side of the door to escape.

His cell door bangs open suddenly and Eugene jumps.

It’s the man wit the goatee. But there’s something off about him that keeps Eugene from saying his usual sarcastic greeting. He looks… almost crazed. His piercing blue eyes are wild, his hair disheveled, and bares his teeth in a vicious snarl. Something uneasy rolls through Eugene’s stomach and despite the fact that he has nowhere to go, Eugene shifts further back into the wall as if he can somehow get away from him.

He knows it’s useless. But he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone look so… unhinged, and instinct is screaming at Eugene to put as much distance as he can between himself and the other man.

“What’s—” Eugene tries to ask, but he’s cut off with a boot connecting solidly with his stomach.

“Shut up!” the man snaps as Eugene curls instinctively around himself, coughing. Eugene’s barely aware that his shackles are being unlocked as he catches his breath. Before he can think, Eugene feels the man yank him to his feet, an arm wrapped around his shoulders in a surprisingly strong grip and the point of a blade digging dangerously under his chin.

“Walk.” The one word is growled low in his ear, accompanied with a clumsy shove forward that does nothing to diminish the man’s grip on Eugene.

“Okay, okay,” Eugene says, doing his best to sound placating. Eugene walks through the door and immediately realizes Goatee’s problem.

The hall between the cells is in chaos.

Metal shrieks against metal as swords and axes clash. Eugene sees the sun-shaped crest of Corona and the familiar red-and-gold guard uniforms caught in combat with the leather-armored captors. The familiar voices of his fellow guard members clash in their shouts. And in the middle of it all—staggering to a stop at the dead-run she’d been in towards Eugene’s cell—stands Rapunzel. Despite knowing that he is still very much in danger, a part of Eugene goes a little weak with relief.

“You!” the man snarls from behind Eugene. “How’d you escape?”

Eugene’s eyes flit over Rapunzel again and again, a part of him afraid that she was going to disappear into smoke if he looked away. She seemed… okay. At least, mostly okay as far as Eugene could tell. Her dress was torn and bloodied at the sleeve, there was a split along her brow that was bleeding still—a fresh wound, then—and she was pale. But she stands tall, her short brown hair falling across her forehead, her face streaked with dirt and sweat. Beautiful, Eugene thinks without an ounce of irony.

Her green eyes flash, furious. “Let him go, Fenaril.” Fenaril? Eugene thinks, wondering how Rapunzel had learned Goatee’s name. Then again, she’d always been cleverer than Eugene.

“Ha!” Fanaril barks a laugh. “You think you’re in a position to demand things of me, princess? Think again!”

“Rapunzel—” Eugene tries, but there’s a jerk on the grip across his shoulders.

“And you,” Fenaril hisses to him, “should shut up for once in your worthless life.”

“I’m not going to tell you again,” Rapunzel warns in a low, dangerous voice. “Let him go.” She takes a step closer.

Fenaril matches her, taking a step back and dragging Eugene with him to maintain the distance between them. “Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Rapunzel, it’s okay,” Eugene grits out. “Just go.”

Her eyes flash from Fenaril’s eyes to Eugene’s own. She looks angry. Angrier than Eugene can ever remember seeing her. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Then it seems,” Fenaril cuts in impatiently, “that we’re at a bit of an impasse.”

“Fenaril, don’t make this worse for yourself.” Rapunzel holds her hands out to him, palms up. “Let Eugene go and we can—” she takes another step forward, and Fenaril snarls at her.

“I would not do that if I were you,” he repeats.

“Fenaril—” she takes another step.

The stiletto dagger leaves Eugene’s throat but he doesn’t even have time to take in a deep breath before he feels the blade sink into his shoulder. The strangled, pain noise that breaks from his throat doesn’t sound fully human, even to his own ears. His vision goes white. He thinks he hears Rapunzel yell something, but he can’t make it out.

Eugene is shaking—he can tell, even despite his best attempts to stop it—and he knows that Fenaril’s grip on him is the only thing that keeps him from dropping to his knees. Then the sharp end of the blade is back to his throat.

“Do you want to try that again, princess?”

Eugene thinks, through the weird shock-white haze of heat and pain tearing through his shoulder—that he should open his eyes. Or say something. But he doesn’t, because his thoughts are little more than strings of curse words and a vague but desperate wish that Rapunzel didn’t have to see him get stabbed… again.

“Eugene.” Rapunzel’s voice doesn’t break, but Eugene can hear the way it almost does, and that’s enough to force himself to open his eyes.

He tries his best to offer Rapunzel a smile. Something to reassure her. There’s a desperation in her eyes that reminds Eugene vaguely of that one night in the tower, holding his hand to her hair fruitlessly, singing the Healing Incantation through her tears—

“Hey, sunshine,” he manages, and it’s a silly thing to say right then but it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

It occurs then to Eugene that he could die. For the second time in his life, Eugene finds himself thinking that if Rapunzel’s face is the last thing he ever sees, it’s not such a bad way to go.

“Now, Varian!” Rapunzel shouts.

Eugene barely has time to process what she’s yelled when there’s a loud pop and a hissing sound and suddenly Eugene is pressed against something soft and squishy. The arm across his chest holding him in place is immediately encased in a blue, gelatinous substance. The hand to his neck holding the knife is covered as well. Eugene shuts his eyes and tenses, waiting to the sting of the knife against his neck.

It doesn’t come.

A moment passes, and Eugene is aware of two voices talking to him—both of them familiar and he thinks one of them might be Rapunzel but his mind is spinning and he can’t keep up with it. Hands are grabbing at him, helping him extract from the vice-like grip that Fenaril had on him after they’ve pulled the dagger away from his throat. And Eugene thinks he should thank them, or say something, but his mind is swimming in a weird haze and his vision is tunneling.

“Varian, can you—”

“Rapunzel, he’s gonna—!"

Eugene doesn’t hear the end of the statement before the world spins and goes dark.

…

“Varian,” Eugene says, two days later, as he watches the royal engineer trip over the edge of Eugene’s bed in his rush to give him the medicine he’d forgotten.

“What?” Varian glances up from the cup in his hands, his dark hair falling into his eyes despite the way his goggles were attempting to keep most of it out of his face.

Eugene offers him a small, reassuring smile. “Relax. It’s just painkillers, kid.” He takes the cup from the alchemist’s hands as Varian nods absently. Eugene downs it quickly, grimacing at the unpleasant taste. Once emptied, Eugene sets the cup on the table beside him.

Varian sighs a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “How’re the bandages?”

Eugene glances down, surprised by the question. The bandages around his ribs had been changed a few hours ago. “They’re fine.”

“And your shoulder?”

“I’m okay, Varian,” Eugene assures him.

The alchemist had been one of a few people that had been hovering the past few days, ever since they got back to the kingdom. Rapunzel had barely left his side, and the only reason she wasn’t in the room presently was because she’d been requested to give a State of the Kingdom address to assure the people of Corona that she and Eugene were recovering well and the culprits involved in the kidnapping had been detained. Lance did his best to stop by every day, though Eugene was in an out of consciousness for most of those first 36 hours so his memories of Lance were hazy at best.

Between the three of them and the members of the guard that would stop by to check in or give him a status report of the state of things—which Eugene was pretty sure was just a reason for some of them to stop by rather than their actual intention—Eugene hadn’t been left alone since before the siege of Fenaril’s place. And even when Rapunzel had been present and Eugene had been awake, which wasn’t often, they were almost never alone together. Which meant that it had been hard for Eugene to gauge, really, if Rapunzel was as okay as she had been pretending to be.

“Hey, Varian?” The alchemist looks up at him. Eugene hesitates, then sighs. “How’s Rapunzel been?”

Varian averts his gaze. “She’s… worried about you,” he says softly. “She doesn’t talk much about what happened, but I heard her tell Lance that you took the worst of it.”

Something in Eugene relaxes a bit at that, but not by much. “Is she getting sleep?”

Varian sighs a little. “I think so, but I don’t think it’s very much. I make sure she tries, though.”

Eugene nods, offering a faint half-smile. “Thank you.”

“It’s not much.”

“It’s plenty,” Eugene assures, frowning at the young genius. It’s not like Varian could be expected to force Rapunzel to sleep, and Eugene knew there were plenty of reasons why she may be… struggling with that. Eugene was well aware that his own sleeping was more a result of drowsiness brought on by medicine and exhaustion rather than indicative of how well he’s actually able to sleep.

He has a feeling he has his own sleepless nights yet ahead of him. He’d had a few following that night at the tower with Gothel, after all.

Varian shakes his head slightly in response to Eugene. “But—”

“Varian,” Eugene insists, “I don’t know how I would’ve gotten out of there alive if it weren’t for you. You did plenty.”

“I’ve… never seen you like that, Eugene,” Varian says, so quietly that Eugene almost doesn’t hear him. When he finally meets Eugene’s gaze, there’s something haunted in his blue eyes that catches Eugene off guard. “That… that beaten up? It had to have hurt. A lot.”

Eugene tosses him a smile and it feels a little brittle but Varian seems to relax a bit at it. “Nothing I can’t handle, kid. Here,” he adds, desperate to change the subject. “Help me stand up.”

Varian’s eyes widen. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Eugene waves the concern off. “I just wanna stretch my legs for a bit. I’m not trying to run a marathon. We’re Team Awesome, aren’t we?” He sits up a bit more at the mountain of pillows, taking a breath before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

Varian scrambles towards him, apparently realizing that Eugene was going to try to walk with or without help, and wraps Eugene’s non-injured arm around his shoulders. Varian had grown taller in recent months, and though he’s still shorter than Eugene, it’s only by a few inches. Eugene stands and lets Varian shoulder some of his weight. He is, admittedly, a bit surprised that his legs seem to hold. Even if maybe they tremble just a little from the exertion.

“What are you two doing?” asks a familiar voice from the doorway.

Standing in the threshold of Eugene’s bedroom stands Rapunzel. The gash in her eyebrow has been closed with stitches. She’s not quite as pale as she’d been during the standoff with Fenaril, though Eugene can see the dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes. His stomach twists with concern, but there’s an almost amused lilt to her voice that makes his face break out into a smile.

“Sunshine!” Eugene goes to take a step towards her, and very nearly collapses as his already shaky legs give out on him. Varian yelps, staggering a bit in his effort to keep Eugene from crumpling to the floor.

Rapunzel crosses quickly to them, taking Varian’s place as the alchemist helps transfer the weight over to her. They both help Eugene sit on the edge of the bed.

“I told him it was a bad idea,” Varian explains, “but he said he wanted to ‘stretch his legs’.”

With Rapunzel this close—closer than she’s been in days—smelling faintly of paint and lavender soap, all Eugene really wants to do right now is to pull her closer. Bury his face into her neck and not let go. Just breathe her in. Card his fingers through her hair. Prove to himself that she is really here. Really okay. Really safe.

Eugene’s hands shake a little with the thought and he curls his free one against his thigh. Rapunzel seems to sense, or feel, the way he’s trembling because she looks at him with her brows pinched together in concern.

Eugene’s answering smile is flimsy at best. “Wasn’t Varian’s fault.”

The look of concern doesn’t waver. Rapunzel seems hesitant to let her gaze waver from his but she lets her green eyes flicker to Varian for a moment, her lips pursing. “Varian, could… you give us a minute? Maybe check on Pascal for me? He’s been pretty exhausted the past few days.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course. I should get this stuff to the kitchen to be cleaned, too,” he says, gathering the cup and plate that sits on the table and quickly exiting out of the room. He closes the door behind him.

“Rapunzel—”

“Eugene—”

They both stop, their mouths snapping shut nearly in unison. Eugene’s eyes start to sting and he thinks that now, now, is an extraordinarily odd time for his resolve to buckle. The edges of his vision blur and Eugene stares at the gold clasp of her dress at her neckline because he knows that if he meets her eyes, he might fall apart.

“Eugene,” Rapunzel whispers, and he feels a hand cup his jaw. Eugene squeezes his eyes shut, leaning into the unbearably gentle touch.

“Rapunzel, can… can I…” Eugene askingly tugs her closer and Rapunzel gravitates towards him without hesitation.

Eugene wraps his good arm around her waist and holds on tight, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She’s safe. She’s safe. She’s safe. Rapunzel is holding him just as tightly, just as close, though mindful of his injuries. Eugene can feel his hair getting damp and feels the jerk in Rapunzel’s shoulders with an aborted sob and he just squeezes all the tighter.

At some point, he knows, they’ll need to talk about it. Rapunzel’s scream will echo in his nightmares for weeks, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever work up the courage to ask what they did to elicit it from her. Rapunzel will struggle to sleep at all. They’ll gravitate closer to one another in the days, weeks, that follow. But they’ll get through it together. One step at a time. Like they do with everything else.

For now, Eugene just holds on to her as tight as he can.

[yesimwriting]

Hello! Your Nikolai fic tranquility is so beautiful! Can you write more for Nikolai? Maybe the opposite with reader having a nightmare? Or whatever you want just please give me more! If you have a tagging list I'd love to be included btw :)

A/n hii!! first off,, thank you! i was a little nervous about writing him for the first time,, but i love him so much (even though i love a good villain/morally grey character in love i think nikolai would probably make the least toxic bf in the grishaverse lol)

you gave me a little too much freedom here lol bc i have so many ideas for him!! lowkey might need to give him a longer fic/series soon when i catch up with requests!! WOW THIS FIC IS SO LONG AND FOR WHAT

Summary: Reader is a handmaid who has grown up assisting Nikolai. Through the years, the two have developed a special relationship that most definitely breaks royal protocol--they’re best friends and rivals on a good day, and dangerously close to being something more the second either of them is remotely upset or extremely happy. Learning about the fact that Nikolai was almost engaged to Alina (a good friend of yours) and being reminded of the fact that as royalty Nikolai has many prospects (both serious women worthy of his title and women only suitable for trysts meant to relieve tension) has you both realizing something you should have years ago.

Word count: 31210

Warnings: disclaimer--may not be the most cannon thing ever,, but i wanted the ‘child of the help competes and falls in love with the child of royalty’ energy okay?? Lol

I could do a whole blurb series with this dynamic nikolai x reader,, like just stories of them growing up together and randomly realizing they might like each other romantically?? I probably shouldn’t rn but i ADORE this trope.

--

The perfection of the room is disappointing. Idle hands, idle thoughts--so I work to smooth out a perfect duvet. Still, the thoughts come--aggressive and unavoidable. It’s silly, maybe even sad, to feel possessive over something that’s never been yours, something that could never be yours, but the harder I fight off the feeling the stronger it grows. Jealousy is a weed growing quickly in my chest, vile roots planted firmly in my heart.

Normally my favorite part of the day would be waiting for Nikolai to return to his room in the palace after dinner and his evening duties. He’s always a bit softer in the evenings, during my last check-in of the day. I’m normally thrilled to be done organizing his room early because that means the second he arrives there will be no distraction. Most evenings, he’ll find me perched in the seat by his bed, reading. He’ll mock-scold me for daring to defy his orders and reading ahead from the book we both take turns reading aloud from each night. He then warns me that I better react exactly the way I did when I first read it or else. That threat is always followed by a gentle laugh.

Tonight I’m in no mood for our nightly banter or even our nightly reading. My mother had warned me of the dangers of getting too comfortable with the royal family. I should have heeded that warning when she first gave it to me, the morning she found Nikolai and I fast asleep on a couch in the library as children. The palace likes to bring up the children of the staff by training them to attend to the next generation of royals. It makes the staff more efficient, a lifetime of knowing what someone wants makes you better for them. It also creates some level of connection, making betrayal a little less likely. Nikolai and I might have taken it farther than most. But now I want a reminder of the way we’re supposed to be--maybe if I detach now the bleeding of my heart won’t kill me. That has to remain secret, because if I explain it to Nikolai something in me will break. The one line between us will be crossed.

This will be the sixth secret I’ve kept from Nikolai in my entire life.

--

The secrets:

I don’t know why I was picked for Nikolai. I wasn’t particularly skilled, but still, the day came when my mother was told that I now worked directly for the Lantsov boy. It’s an honor, a true one, but my mother had been a little nervous. To whom much is given, much is expected--and I detested Nikolai. Not for being a prince, but for being a prince who thought girls couldn’t race or fight.

The day my mother came looking for me because I never showed up for dinner and she found Nikolai and I attempting to fight in the way only a ten-year-old girl and eleven-year-old boy would, she had looked truly mortified. Nikolai had only laughed, either oblivious to my mother’s embarrassment or uncaring about it. He had then hugged me--an expression of care that had left me reeling. I saw him more as a rival than someone to tend to, but in that moment I saw him as a friend. Even more so when he told me he didn’t want me to go yet and that he was upset that so much of the day had been wasted by studies that kept him with boring people and away from me. And then he invited me to his lessons--my mother was quick to attempt to decline politely, but the desires of a prince at any age outweigh that of a mother.

After that, everyone kind of just stopped trying to remind us of our propriety. The tutor at first was concerned about my presence, but Nikolai remained stubborn. I wasn’t a big enough deal to cause an argument, so I began to attend lessons with him almost every day, only staying away when my mother needed aid with laundry or cleaning. His parents must have been somewhat aware of our friendship, but they must have been oblivious to our closeness because it was never mentioned.

My mother’s worry began to ease, she’d even started to take some pride when I’d come to our room proudly proclaiming that I scored two marks higher than Nikolai. She did, however, warn that it might be more tactful to let him score higher.

The comment was casual, just a suggestion, but it left me feeling wrong. It was the first time since we met that I had thought about our different statuses. I didn’t tell him--and that was the first secret I ever kept from him.

As we grew, we traded physical competition for academic rivalry, trying to best each other in both lessons and games of strategy like chess and cards. But with growing comes responsibility. Nikolai started to have obligations that were meant to be private. I couldn’t follow him at all times. But he’d always come back from locked door meetings grinning like he carried schoolyard gossip instead of government secrets. He shared everything with me, even when I playfully warned against it.

He’d always step closer when I teased that perhaps he shouldn’t tell me everything. And then he’d say, “If I can’t trust you, then I can’t trust anyone--and I don’t want to live in a world like that.” Often, he’d give my hand a light squeeze before moving on like he had not said anything intimate.

On a day in which Nikolai was in one of those meetings, I became a woman. When I first saw the blood, I had been horrified--but my mother was quick to explain that it was natural. She said that I was now a woman, a wonderful thing, really--but a thing that came with obligations. She told me that I could no longer have the impromptu ‘sleepovers’ with Nikolai unless he ordered it. I told her he’s never ordered me to do anything for him.

She didn’t ease, something in her had started to become nervous again. My mother had recently started to act the way she did when Nikolai and I first became friends. I didn’t want to fall asleep in Nikolai’s bed while I was bleeding, but I didn’t want to never have another sleepover with him again. Especially not when she refused to explain why being a woman changed so much.

I had decided to avoid Nikolai as much as possible until the sting of my mother’s new rule faded. Unfortunately, that night Nikolai was extra talkative--excited as he insisted I stay for a little longer. Soon, I found his familiar good naturedness melting away my nerves and before I knew it I was laughing in the middle of the night. When my eyelids started to feel heavy, I had moved from the chair, ready to head back to my room.

Nikolai had looked at me oddly before he asked why would I leave so late when it would be easier for me to just sleepover? It was an innocent question, he did not know about my change and I had wanted to keep it that way.

I tried playing coy, but Nikolai has always had a talent for getting around my better judgement. I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but I remember him standing in front of me. It was the first time I noticed how much had actually changed over the years--he was now taller than me for the first time in his life. His hair had started to grow a little longer, golden and soft-looking--and his face seemed much more angular. But he had not lost his boyish charm.

“Y/n?” My name fell softly from his lips, and that was the first time I had ever noted the fullness of them. I didn’t understand why I considered that something worth noting. “Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

Perhaps I had been a little curt--nerves and hormones had left me not feeling like myself. I didn’t tell him about the bleeding, I couldn’t. That became the second secret I kept from him--but I did tell him that my mother had told me I was a woman now, and that women can’t have sleepovers. Not with those of the opposite gender. I made no effort to hide my confusion because I expected him to be as perplexed as I was. But he was not confused--in fact, he had the audacity to laugh. My face flushed, but I did not know why.

“Why is that funny?” Maybe he thought I was still too much of a child to be considered a woman. I assumed it a fair assumption, I had not grown the way he had--my shoulders had not become sturdier and I had not become particularly broader. Still, I would rather melt into the floor than tell him about the reason my mother now considered me a woman. “My mother did say that, and I don’t know what being a ‘woman’ has to do with staying in your room at night.” Something strange had crossed over his features then, something much more brooding than I was used to.

I had blinked at him as unexplained nerves pooled in my stomach. Perhaps that look would have been enough to keep me silent if he had managed to not grin. That self-assured grin that had always challenged me. “Well since you know everything about my mother now, maybe you can tell me why she’s been acting strange. She’s starting to act the way she did when we first became friends.” I expected him to at least pretend to be worried. Perhaps his parents had spoken to her and had mentioned wanting our friendship to end. But his grin had only grown. Pride left me angry. “She did say that I could stay if you ordered it--but I’m glad you’ve never ordered me to do anything, so I can leave right now because you’re acting as odd as her. I don’t understand what you could find funny about our friendship ending.”

He had stopped me from storming out of his room by placing one hand on the wall between me and the door. “Y/n, don’t be cross--I’ll explain it all, I promise.” Angry pride made me want to storm away from him, but curiosity and something unknown and warm kept me in place. “Do you remember when we read the play about the rival families, how the two main characters had kissed?”

I remembered that part of the play especially well. The concept of kissing so casually, outside of marriage, had been jarring to me. “Yes.”

“Now that we’re older, your mother must be worried that we might do that.” He paused before leaning against the arm he placed on the wall to keep me from leaving a little more. “Kiss.”

The clarification was not needed--in that brief pause, I had allowed myself to imagine no distance between our lips. Something in me burned with embarrassment when I realized that some part of me found the thought appealing. The only thing I wanted in that moment was assurance that Nikolai would never know I felt that. That was my third secret, and the weight of it was heavy against my chest.

Still, though, all of my confusion had not yet left. “Is there much harm in a kiss?”

The question had left an odd smile on his lips. “There’s potential harm in what it could lead to for the woman, but not so much for the man.” He exhaled slowly as my face tensed. He could always read me too well because he was quick to add, “What it could lead to isn’t a bad thing, it’s meant to be pleasurable, but it’s serious.” I did not understand, but a part of me was starting to grow okay with that. Nikolai’s voice had started to become lower than ever, and his gaze remained tense. Perhaps if I accepted the confusion for now, things could go back to normal. If the conversation ended, I could stop thinking of his lips and his hands and what it would mean for them to touch me. “It’s considered a vice, like drinking or gambling.” The additional comment helped more than it should have. A vice--not scary and not painful, but not something to indulge in. That’s enough explanation for now. “If you want to know, I won’t deny you.”

I appreciated the offer tremendously. The vice that comes after kissing is clearly something that’s been intentionally kept from me. It’s something he was privy to that I was not, and he offered it to me like so much else. But if knowledge that my mother feared us kissing made me think of his lips, then I doubted I could handle knowing what comes after kissing.

“I’ll let you know when I want to know, but I appreciate the offer.” It felt like a fair response. His snarky grin came back immediately. Irritation rooted itself in my stomach. I hated not knowing more than him for once, but I still had one question I could not relinquish. “But what does that vice have to do with orders?”

At that, his smugness faltered. “It’s not unheard of, for princes and handmaids--for a prince to obligate a handmaid in order to fulfill his vice. Though many handmaids fill the vice of their own will for benefits.

The explanation left him like a confession. I didn’t understand his hesitance--it’s not like he’d ever make me do anything I didn’t want to do. Even when I worked, he was hesitant to ask me to go out of my way to bring him a glass of water. And I couldn’t imagine gaining anything from offering Nikolai something I didn’t really understand. I wasn’t naive to the fact that my life had more privileges than many palace servants. “Oh.”

His eyes hardened. “You know I’d never--”

“I know.” It was finally easy to smile again. “I never thought otherwise.” Something in him seemed to ease at that, his eyes went from hard to warm in less than a second.

I had no more questions for him and I was also no longer a flight risk, but Nikolai did not move. He did not step back to create a more appropriate distance and he did not drop his arm. His gaze, however, did move--dropping downwards, and slightly away from my eyes. I did the same, my eyes falling to his lips.

The silence between us began to make me feel like something in me was in danger of overflowing. “Then I guess my mother is once again worrying for no reason.” Strangely, I did not feel the need to feel embarrassed about staring at his lips. “Because I would never particularly want to kiss you, Nikolai Lantsov.”

The comment was meant to be teasing, a joke to clear away unknown tension. I should have known better than to challenge his pride because he instinctually moved his hand off the wall and beneath my chin. I did not flinch when he tilted my head upwards slightly with his fingers. “I could get you to want to kiss me if I wanted to.”

Three secrets in one night. I did not think I could bear a fourth one. “Hm…” The ground we treaded on felt unstable, but something in me trusted Nikolai to not let me falter. “I should--I should go before I give my mother anymore cause to worry.”

His fingers had brushed down my chin easily as he dropped his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

And that he did. The days passed without mention of the last time he asked me to sleepover. It was as if nothing had changed except now I found myself noting things I most definitely did not want to note. These didn’t feel like individual secrets because it felt easy to group each admirational thought into one secret. Soon, that became my new normal--easy banter, easy touches of hands, and easy yet silent admirations of his beauty.

I never wandered too hard about what the vice that kissing can lead to entailed. I didn't particularly want to know, but knowing that I could ask Nikolai at any time brought a sense of security to me. But besides that, I never thought of that conversation until the day I was asked to look for Nikolai because he was late for dinner.

That in itself was odd, most of the time when Nikolai was late it was because he was with you. I checked his room, two other rooms he was known to frequent, and then finally the library. First, I noticed a handmaid two years older than me. I was finally at an age when one begins to compare their beauty to those around them, and I recognized the girl as gorgeous. She was better endowed than me, physically, and she always seemed fun. And then I noticed Nikolai, standing closer to her than I’ve ever seen him stand to anyone. His expression was serious as the girl giggled.

Nikolai’s expression shifted from tense to shocked when he saw me. “Y/n.”

It took me a moment longer than it should have to realize what I had interrupted. Guilt and jealousy were quick to twist in my stomach. “Dinner--your parents sent me to look for you.”

He was quick to walk around the girl, who was quick to glare at me. I attempted to disappear down the hall after mumbling a quick apology, but Nikolai was faster than me.

“Y/n,” he did not hesitate to grab my wrist.

It shouldn’t have irked me the way it did, after all, neither of us had ever really hesitated to touch each other. I had always reached for him when I wanted him, and he had done the same. But the thought of the same hands that touched the most beautiful girl I had ever seen on me left me bitter in a way I didn’t understand.

Still, I pushed through all of that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, your mother asked me to look for you because she assumed you’d be with me when you were late to dinner. I didn’t think that there’d be--”

“You didn’t interrupt anything.” The words came out flat as his eyes took on the same quality they did the night he explained my mother’s concern to me. “Valaria wishes there was something to interrupt, but there wasn’t.”

Oh. I refused to let the correction inflate me. “Would you like me to not come to your room tonight?”

The offer felt awkward to make. “No,” the answer came quickly, “In fact, go there now--I want to see you right after dinner. I’ve missed you today.” The instruction left my face feeling warm. “We could read an extra chapter of our book if you’d like.”

Despite myself, I grinned. “Yes.”

“Looking forward to it.”

True to his word, Nikolai was quick to return to his room. He had come back to me eagerly, going out of his way to squeeze my shoulder as he entered the room.

I opened the book to the chapter we had left off on, but before I could start reading, Nikolai stopped me. “Sit next to me?”

The question came softly. It had been some time since we sat next to each other on his bed. Still, I moved off of the chair and to his bed. Something in me longed for the familiar closeness of childhood. I allowed him to play with my fingers as I read.

“You know you could take one night off from me if you wanted to.” The admission left me softly, part of unsure if he was still paying attention to my words. “She was pretty, it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings if you told me you wanted me to not come tonight.”

Nikolai exhaled easily, squeezing my fingers once. “I said I wanted to see you and I meant it.”

It took all of my energy to push past the way his words made my stomach leap. “In general, if you ever--”

Nikolai cut me off by laying his head on my lap the way he used to. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” It was the first time in years that he spoke to me in a way that acknowledged his authority. “Keep reading please.”

And that was the last time we had ever mentioned other handmaids in that context. The fifth secret I ever kept from him was the way I worried that one day that would change.

--

The door creaks open while I’m in the middle of fluffing an already pristine pillow. Nikolai steps into the room, but I continue to work.

“Darling,” he breathes too easily, “Today has been painful.” I straighten, looking at him as casually as I can manage. “And now I have to deal with you being mad at me.”

Damn him and his ability to read me with one look. “I’m not mad.”

“You know you can’t lie to me,” he sighs, stepping forward, “We’ve known each other too long for that.”

I press my lips together, irrational anger pushing itself into me at an odd angle. “We’ve also known each other too long to keep secrets.”

His eyebrows draw together, a look so quizzical I’m reminded of our schooling days. “What secrets have I kept from you?”

Mentioning that had been a mistake. I exhale as flatly as possible. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” My dismissal only has Nikolai’s expression hardening. I drop my gaze. “Unless you need something, I’m retiring my services for the evening.”

I take a reluctant step towards the door, eyes attached to the floor. “Y/n,” his voice is gentle. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just tired.” Please let that be at least somewhat believable. “I’m sure I’ll feel more like myself in the morning.” I take another step, a little more assured. Nikolai’s hand is on my shoulder before I can escape. “Nikolai--”

“Y/n,” his voice is that of velvet, “I can’t have you be mad at me. Not now.”

Sighing, I meet his gaze. The tiredness I see behind his eyes is almost enough to chase away my nerve. What I’d give to be able to melt into our familiar routine. “Then you should have told me you were almost engaged to a literal Saint--the same literal Saint who’s one of my closest friends.”

Nikolai’s expression shifts as his hand drops from my shoulder slowly, fingers brushing down my arm before he finally intertwines our fingers. I bite my tongue to avoid squeezing his hand, but I don’t move to separate us either. He studies me silently, eyebrows drawn together. The longer he stares, the more whatever turmoil he’s experiencing seems to dissipate. After a minute of silence, I can read his expression perfectly. His lips are pressed together in that coy way--the way he only looks when he’s suppressing a smile.

I loathe him for it. “Nikolai Lantsov, don’t you dare laugh--not after what you did. Do you have any idea what it felt like to have Alina casually mention the fact that you almost married her casually? Like that was common knowledge to everyone but me?”

My words break away the last of his self control. He grins, flashing his annoyingly perfect teeth. “Do you have any idea what it feels like for me to want nothing more than to see you and then you let me believe something may actually be wrong when the only issue is your jealousy?”

The amusement in his tone is like poison to me. I find the strength to jerk my hand away from him. “I am not jealous.” He laughs; I am further enraged. “I am not.” The genuineness of my anger must finally register on some level, because he tries to suppress his smile. “I have every right to be mad at my best friend for not telling me that he was almost married.”

“We didn’t exactly come close,” he manages, expression still much too light for my taste. “I’m glad for Alina’s sake, I’m not sure being a Saint would be enough to protect her.”

He is infuriating. “I’m not sure anything you have will be enough to protect you.”

Something in his gaze shifts, softening the tilt of his mouth. “I don’t doubt that.”

I don’t know what I expected from him--but not this. I thought he’d be at least somewhat apologetic. “You should have told me.”

“I would have if I felt it was significant.”

“I’m your best friend--your marriage is significant to me. And even though it’s not like you’re engaged to her right now, you should have told me. You know I talk to Alina all the time.”

He sighs once, a hint of apology threatening to ghost over his eyes. “If I knew not knowing would have upset you so much I would have told you. I was--I was just so excited to be around you again I didn’t see much relevance in anything that didn’t involve you.”

The intensity that Nikolai regards me with is enough to wither all of my fury. But without my anger, I am left spiraling in emotion that I’ve been pushing against for years. My mother’s warning about relationships with those above us rings in my ears--sharp and headache inducing. I am still when he reaches for my hand again, but I do no allow myself to return the gentle squeeze of his fingers.

“I’m not sure much outside of you has significance.” He’s giving me a look I am familiar with. A look he often uses to chase away my anger.

Without my anger, I have nothing to keep me from melting into him, indulging in his presence fully. It’s so easy with him and I blinded myself to the danger of that. He may not be marrying Alina, but one day he will marry someone. A person worthy of his status--and what would I be left doing? Washing their laundry? Tearing up when I dusted the library and came across a book we had read together? Enough damage has already been done--I need to cut myself with this blade now in hopes of making sure I can one day recover.

He will get married one day, and nothing will be the same. And that’s a good thing--he deserves the love of a princess or queen. I want his happiness, even if it’s not with me. But some vindictive part of me hopes that some part of him will miss me. That some part of him will be dulled without me.

I’m a fool--he will remember me as the handmaid from his youth. The girl who made him laugh once or twice before he grew up. I force my hand out of his grasp. “You can’t win me over with words every time.” I need to get out of here before he says something that makes me lose all resolve. “Tomorrow morning I’ll be here to prepare you for breakfast.”

“Y/n.”

I step forward, refusing to look at him. “Goodnight.”

He sighs, his hand quick to grab my arm. Before I can question him I feel myself pulled back. I expect him to pull me just close enough so that I have to meet his gaze. He continues, pulling me sharply before placing a quick hand on my shoulder, forcing me down. My back hits his bed.

I sit up as soon as the reality of what just happened seeps into my mind. “Nikolai, what in the Saints--”

“If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.”

I scoff, thoughts of escaping him put on hold by the principle of pride. Fine. I’ll beat him one last time, and then I’ll let us separate. I shove him. He laughs--of course this is funny to him. He got to keep fighting past the age of about eleven. His laughter adds to my anger, I move to shove him again, but he catches my wrist easily. I struggle against his hold, shoving him a third time with my still free hand. He pushes me slightly. That’s all it takes to unleash familiar habits.

Our small fight is hardly fair. He has all the advantage--more training, and he’s standing above me. When I finally make a move that might give me some success, Nikolai leans forward. He practically tackles me, his weight forcing me flat against the bed.

I move an arm, ready to push him off of me. Nikolai snags my wrists, holding them above my head. “This means I win.” I roll my eyes, anger returning.

“Let me go.”

He sighs tiredly, but the smugness radiating off of him is suffocating. “Admit that you were jealous.”

There are a lot of things I am willing to do for him--but never that. I cannot give him the one separation I still have. “I wasn’t.”

“Then why are you mad?”

I press my lips together. “I told you--”

“Do you really think you could lie to me?”

“You don’t know me that well.”

Nikolai moves his freehand, touching my chin as a way to ask me to look at him. I meet his gaze hesitantly. “Yes, I do, and that’s never bothered you before but it does now.”

Maybe this is a conversation better had bluntly. “It bothers me now because you’re too old to hold onto the daughter of a palace handmaid and I’m too old to pretend that our different statuses don’t matter.”

“Y/n,” he breathes, “Nothing’s changed. Status didn’t matter to me when we were children, and it doesn’t matter to me now.”

“You can afford to say things like that.”

“What good is my title if it means I can’t,” he pauses, eyes hesitant, “If I can’t keep things the same between us?”

I smile, the sadness of the look weighs on me and I can’t even see it. “Nikolai, you always knew things would change.”

“No, I--”

“You can’t tell me you think your future wife would like you having such a close relationship with a handmaid.” I press my lips together. “One day you’ll fall in love and get married and you’ll want me to leave your bedchamber as soon as dinner is over because you’ll be eager to spend time with your wife.” His gaze hardens. “And that’s not a bad thing. It’s actually a really good thi--”

The last syllable of my sentence dies in my throat. Nikolai, who must be possessed by something, leans down and presses his lips against mine. I beg myself to resist, but his gentleness is everything I’ve ever wanted. He releases my hands in favor of holding my face. That’s all it takes--my hands move without my permission, into his hair--pulling him closer to me. What am I doing? I’m insane. Placing my hands on his chest cautiously, I push just slightly. He’s quick to obey, pulling away while allowing his teeth to brush against my bottom lip.

I gape at him--taking in his now slightly swollen lips. “Nikolai.” He can’t do this to me. We’re friends. Despite the fact that I’ve loved him more than I should--we’re friends. “You’re being extremely unfair.”

He draws his eyebrows together, sitting up quickly and moving off of me. “I’m being unfair? I have spent my entire life loving y--”

I sit up, furious in a new way. “You have not!” This is the dumbest I have ever been. I move to stand, still feeling the softness of his lips against mine.

“Your tooth fell out.” The sharpness of his words forces me to still.

“What?”

I can’t bring myself to turn and look at him, but I’ve always been able to feel any heaviness he bears. The weight of it leaves little room for air in my lungs. “You were ten. I told you ‘girls couldn’t fight’ so you punched me in the face. That was the first time we ever fought--I didn’t mean to hit you in the face, but you moved. You moved and I hit you in the mouth and your last baby tooth fell out. I expected you to cry or get angry, but you just blinked at me and laughed. You were happy to lose your last baby tooth because it meant you were grown up. And then you smiled and asked me if you looked older. If anything, the gap in your smile made you look younger but I told you that you looked like a grown-up because I wanted you to keep smiling. Because your smile made me feel like I won something.” I turn on my heels, but I cannot meet his gaze. “That was the moment I fell in love with you--so don’t tell me I haven’t spent my entire life loving you.”

The weight of his words is harder to survive against than the heaviness of his feelings. “Nikolai, you know we can’t ever be together--”

“Why not?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I manage, voice low, “You almost married the Sun Summoner--”

“That was political--”

“Exactly, your marriage is meant to be political, and if it happens to be out of love--which is what I hope you get, because it is what you deserve--it will be to someone of status.”

Nikolai stands, the movement is that of a king, not the boy I know. “I do not want status or to love someone else--I want you.”

“I can’t take that from you--”

“You can’t take anything from me because I’ve already given it all to you.”

I press my lips together, heart tearing for him. “I love you too much to ruin you.”

My words seem to snap something in him because his eyes darken, the way he watches me adjusting accordingly. “You can’t ruin something that’s always been yours.”

I let myself smile. At him. At his words. At the foolish hope the child in me has clung to after all of these years. I reach for him thoughtlessly, because I have the right to. Because I’ve always had the right to. He’s quick to respond, kissing me with much more security than before.

This time, he pulls away of his own regard. “You still haven’t admitted that you were jealous.”

His teasing smugness isn’t as sour to me anymore. “I wasn’t.”

Nikolai pulls me towards him easily, lips threatening to brush against me, warm breath against my face. “Are you sure, darling? You were awfully quick to claim what’s yours.”

I roll my eyes, grinning so widely I’m surprised my face doesn’t yet hurt. “You’re the one that fell for a ten-year-old girl with a bloody mouth.”

When he smiles back at me, he places a hand on my hip, pulling me forward slightly. “That I did.” He pulls me forward slightly. "Does this mean you can sleep in here again?"

"If anything, this is more reason for me to sleep in another room." He rolls his eyes, pulling me even closer. "But I won't tell if you don't."

Nikolai leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Deal."

tags: @deardiarystuff @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy  @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Leave No One Behind

Ch 10- Today Is A Gift, That’s Why They Call It The Present

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

****

Episode Summary: The Team run their second mission, but it doesn’t go according to plan. When one of the refugee women goes into labour, Hannah and Sammy battle to save her life and that of her baby and the outcome isn’t one any of the team hoped for.

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW no under18s). Descriptions of birth and trauma. Still born baby- so PLEASE PLEASE HEED THE WARNING AND DO NOT READ IF THESE COULD TRIGGER.

Episode Pairings:  Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

Song for Episode:  Hallelujah- Leonard Cohen 

A/N: Just to re-iterate, this deals with a very, very difficult subject. Please do NOT read if the warnings above could upset or trigger.

Series Master List //  Main Masterlist 

Baby I've been here before, I've seen this room and I've walked this floor, I used to live alone before I knew ya. I've seen your flag on the marble arch, but love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

Things settled down for Ari and Hannah nicely after her birthday. Sammy wasn’t exactly what Ari would call happy about the situation, but he was accepting which was the main thing and he knew that it made Hannah happier. They were careful to be respectful to his feelings and kept PDAs to a minimum, and also, whilst they didn’t hide the fact they were together from any guests, they still wanted to keep up their professional, alter ego fronts. Therefore, the days were full of stolen moments at their cave, the evenings consisted of taking their own time together after dining with the group to enjoy long sunsets sitting or walking along the sand with Simon and a few drinks whilst the later nights were spent wrapped round one another either in his hut or Hannah’s, the physical side of their love lulling them into a satisfied sleep.

If it wasn’t for the fact they were there for a far more serious reason, Ari would have certainly called it paradise. But they had a job to do, and as such, a couple of weeks later in April they embarked on their second mission.

Rachel was manning the radio and overseeing the hotel as usual, and the rest of them piled in the trucks and set off in the dark, following the route they had meticulously planned, maintaining the updates on the radio as required. They arrived without a hitch, the journey going smoothly and Hannah couldn’t resist taking a dig at Sammy about his lack of faith, her brother simply giving her a scathing look as Ari chuckled from the driver’s seat.

The 5 agents operated quickly and efficiently in the dark clearing of the desert loading the refugees into the trucks, and it was with the last group that Hannah spotted a woman being helped towards the truck by 2 others. She was pregnant, very pregnant in fact. And it was evident she was in a severe amount of pain.

“Sammy…” she nudged her brother and pointed towards the woman. Sammy followed her gaze, and once he spotted what she’d seen he let out a loud groan.

“Shit.” He shook his head, and no sooner had the curse left his mouth, the woman fell to her knees, a cry coming from her lips which was hastily stifled by another refugee clamping her hand over her mouth. Hannah rushed forward, dropping besides the woman and smiled kindly at her, before she turned back to look for Kabede who was currently locked in a heated discussion with Sammy.

“Are you crazy?” Sammy shook his head “It’s too dangerous, she should have stayed!”

“If she stayed she would have died.” Kabede shot back “As would her baby…”

“If anyone hears her then we’re all gonna die!” Sammy shot back and Hannah angrily shushed him.

“Stop it, both of you, you’re scaring her” she looked up “Sammy, she’s in labour and we can’t leave her here…”

“Oh great, that’s…just…” Sammy took a deep breath

Hearing the commotion, Ari and Jake shut the tailgate to the other truck and Ari jogged over to find out what was happening.

“What’s going on?” Ari asked and then he glanced at Hannah who was knelt between a young woman’s legs and one look told him exactly why “Oh…shit.”

“Yeah, shit!” Sammy shook his head and Ari took a deep breath as Hannah spoke.

“She’s in labour.” She looked up at Ari, every inch of her face etched with worry as the woman let out a little cry “And she’s pretty far engaged.”

“I knew things were going too smoothly…” Sammy sighed and Hannah glared at him.

“Oh shut up Sammy you prick!” she shook her head and turned back to Ari as he scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Can you help her?” he asked

“I can try, but it’s gonna have to be on route.” Hannah looked at him. “If anything goes wrong the faster we can get her to the doctor on the boats the better.” Ari drew a deep breath “Ok, Sammy help me and Kabede get her in the truck.”

“I’ll go get my kit.” Hannah jumped up and headed for the cab of the truck, pushing past Max as she ran.

“What…” Max followed her with his eyes before he turned back towards Ari and Sammy, his eyes shooting up as he took in the pregnant woman being helped to her feet, his mouth hanging open slightly.

“Other truck is loaded. We ready to go?” Jake asked, drawing up besides Max, frowning at the look on his face. “Something wrong?”

“Looks like we picked up one extra.” Max whispered, and Jake followed his gaze, his mouth dropping open.

“Oh…”

The men looked at each other before Jake mumbled something about a couple of blankets and shot off back to their truck. Meanwhile, Hannah emerged from the cab of the one she had travelled in and ran back to the tail gate as Jake reappeared, passing a small bundle of blanket to Kabede who placed one under the woman’s head as one of the other refugees took hold of her hand.

Kabede looked at Ari who nodded and clapped his hands together.

“Ok, everyone let’s hit the road!” he loudly called before he turned to Hannah as she was about to vault into the back of the truck. His hand gently fell to the side of her neck as he looked at her “You need me to stop just yell, ok?” she nodded and he kissed her forehead “You can do this sweetheart, I trust you.”

She swallowed and then handed her bag to Kabede before Ari helped her climb up into the truck. Kabede hopped down, quickly embracing Ari before he slunk back off into the shadows. Sammy and Ari slammed the tail gate shut and they both sprinted to the cab. With a final glance back into the flat bed where Ari saw Hannah knelt between the woman’s bent legs, talking to her gently, he twisted back and exchanged a glance with Sammy before he put the truck in gear and set off.

Hannah knew there was something wrong from the minute she’d examined the woman. She’d only delivered a few babies but none of those deliveries had involved quite as much blood as this. The thought that the woman could be having a major haemorrhage crossed her mind but she tried to shake it off as she wiped her blood slick hands on the shirt she was wearing. The truck then hit a rut in the road and the woman let out a scream, gripping her friend’s hand.

“Sorry!” Ari yelled back and Hannah glanced up, momentarily to the front before another yell and a hand on her shoulder made her turn back and she saw with horror the woman had passed out.

“Sammy!” she yelled “Sam, please I need…”

Sammy didn’t waste a second, he clambered over the seats into the back looking at Hannah as she wiped the sweat off her brow with her forearm, unknowingly smearing her head with blood.

Sammy crouched in front of the woman, gently checking her pulse.

“She just passed out.” Hannah said. “The baby’s crowning but…”

“She’s losing too much blood.” Sammy stated the obvious, but Hannah didn’t snap.

“I know.” She said softly.

“Ari!” Sammy called and Ari tipped his head slightly to show he was listening “Get on the radio, tell them what’s going on. They need to be prepared.”

“Got it…” Ari said, reaching for the handset.

“Ok, now listen to me Han…” Sammy said, “You’re gonna have to manipulate the baby slightly. Let her body to the work but as she’s passed out you’re gonna need to help ok?”

“Ok.”

Sammy carefully moved, placing his hand on the woman’s stomach “I’ll tell you when she’s contracting again. You need to gently grip the head…”

Hannah did as she was told and looked at her brother.

“When you feel the baby moving forward slightly, pull until you feel resistance. Then stop.”

“Ok…”

There was a few seconds pause and then Sammy nodded “Now.”

Hannah did as she was told, her fingers curing around the edge of the baby’s head and she gave a tug. The head appeared, and then she noticed with horror that the chord was wrapped around its neck.

“Shit, shit, shit…” she mumbled, and looked at Sammy “The chord…”

Sammy instantly moved. “My hand…” he said gently and Hannah understood he wouldn’t be able to manipulate it free with his limited movement.  She waited until he had hold of the baby’s head, supporting it and then her nimble fingers she moved to try and manipulated the chord free. As she was doing so, the woman began to stir, and then she started to panic. Sammy glanced at the other woman, holding her hand and spoke to her.

“Calm, please, as much as you can ok?”

Whether she understood or it was the tone he spoke in, Sammy had no idea but the woman moved and placed a hand on her friend’s head, gently talking to her in a soothing voice.

“Got it…” Hannah said, and Sammy nodded as once more the woman began to scream. She tucked her chin into her chest and pushed once more, and the baby’s shoulders broke free and Hannah saw the baby slide out into Sammy’s hands.

“It’s a girl.” He said gently, looking at the woman, but Hannah was completely focussed on the baby’s face, which was a cold shade of blue.

She once more wiped her hands, this time on her jeans, and gently hooked a finger into the baby’s mouth, clearing its airways before she began CPR. Gently blowing into the tiny mouth she then used both fingers to pump at the chest, repeating the motion over a few times before she bent and tipped her ear to the baby’s chest and mouth.

Nothing.

As the woman was screaming and babbling besides her, Hannah continued her attempts to resuscitate the tiny baby as Sammy saw to the woman, cleaning and patching her up as best he could.

“Come on…” Hannah mumbled “Come on…”

Over and over and over she tried, and eventually she felt Sammy gently lay his hand on her shoulder.

“Han…” he said, and she looked at him, tears in her eyes. He shook his head sadly.

“No, just…let me try again, Sammy, I can…” “It’s been ten minutes.” He stopped her protest “I think we should call it.”

Hannah looked down at the tiny, lifeless baby which was lay on the bloodstained blanket on the floor of the truck, her tears gently falling down her face. She gave a soft nod and Sammy squeezed her shoulder before he looked up at the woman.

“I’m sorry he shook her head.”

The silence that had fallen across the back of the truck was punctuated by her loud scream of agony and Hannah let out a soft sob as Sammy curled his arm around her.

“What…is something wrong?” Ari called, his voice anxious.

“You could say that.” Sammy said softly. Ari turned his head to look at them, just in time to see Hannah turn and press her face into Sammy’s shoulder, her small frame wracking with sobs.

“Fuck” He mumbled, hanging his head slightly as he resumed his driving in silence. Ari gave himself a moment before he reached for the radio to fill base in on what had happened.

It felt like forever until they reached the deserted cove where they were rendezvousing with the Navy seals. Hannah remained in the back of the truck, the devastated woman cradling her still born baby to her chest. Once everyone else was loaded up, Ari and Sammy came back to help them down. The woman’s friend said something to her and the woman furiously shook he head and Hannah looked at her.

“What is she saying?” she asked softly, “I’m sorry, I don’t…”

“She not leave baby.” The woman said “

“She doesn’t have to.” Ari said gently.

“She say baby go too. Be buried.”

Ari nodded and the woman spoke to the mother and she nodded as well, and then slowly the 2 men and Hannah helped them off the truck and over the sand to the waiting boat. Hannah walked by her side, supporting her gently and looked at the Navy officer who peered at the bundle and bowed his head.

“HQ told us.” He said gently. “We’ll take care of her.” “She’s lost a lot of blood.” Hannah spoke, swallowing “She’s weak so…” “I promise she’s in good hands.” The officer assured her.

Hannah took a deep breath and looked at the woman again who stared at her, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help.” Hannah said gently. “I’m so…so sorry.”

The mother’s voice caught in her throat as the lady gently reached out and grabbed her blood stained hand “You…you good person.” She croaked.

Hannah took another shuddering breath and stepped back, the woman releasing her hand, as Ari and Sammy helped push the boat out through the waves before she bent down and began to wash her arms in the salty water of the sea. She jumped slight as she felt a hand on her back and she looked up as Ari crouched next to her.

“I couldn’t help Ari.” She said gently “I tried, but…” “Hey, it’s not your fault honey.” He said, his hand cupping her dirty face.

“I’m a fucking doctor.” She shook her head, shrugging his hands away as she stood up. “That…I should have….”

“Firefly.” Ari soothed as he rose to his feet, the waves crashing around his knees “You did what you could. Sammy said you were brilliant.”

“He’s a far better doctor that me.” She shook her head “If he had both his hands…”

“You stop that right now!” Sammy’s voice came fiercely over the night and Hannah turned to face him where he was stood a few feet away “Han, we had no equipment. No ultra-sound…she was probably in labour for the last 24 hours. The baby could have been in distress for all that time. There’s nothing either of us could have done.”

Hannah looked at him before she turned away and began making her way up the beach. She passed Max and Jake who were stood watching the ocean, both men turning to watch her go before they looked back at Ari and Sammy.

“You alright pal?” Ari glanced at Sammy who took a deep breath, his shoulder slumping.

“It’s never easy…but when it’s a kid, especially a baby.” He shook his head “That’s probably the first one Hannah’s had to deal with.”

Ari looked over to where Hannah was now climbing into the truck, settling back into the seat she’d been before and he pinched the bridge of his nose before he let out a long breath.

“Come on, let’s get back” he said, his hand falling to Sammy’s shoulder as they waded out of the shallow depth of the ocean. “Good job guys.” He nodded to Jake and Max, “Another 174 people safe.”

“Yeah…” Max looked out over the ocean before he turned to look at the truck, then back to Ari, his shoulders slumping, his face sad. “But it’s the one that didn’t make it who we’re all thinking about.”

Ari bowed his head, before he looked at Max and gave the man’s shoulder a squeeze as he walked past. He said nothing, be chase he had absolutely nothing to say that he knew would make a blind bit of difference to how they were feeling.

The 4 men made their way back to the trucks, Ari climbing in and settling to Hannah’s left, Sammy to her right. He gently dropped his hand to her knee. She didn’t look at him, but she acknowledged his touch by dropping her hand to his and giving it a soft squeeze before she let go so he could start the truck and take them home.

***** It was early morning and still dark when they arrived, Rachel waiting for them as ever. Max and Jake trudged towards her, greeting her with a hug whilst Sammy hopped out of the cab, turning to help Hannah down. He slung his arm over her shoulders and together they made their way towards Rachel.

“Hey.” She said gently “There’s some tea on the go if either of you want any?”

Sammy smiled at her and nodded, but Hannah shook her head as she bent down to scoop Simon up. The dog instantly began licking her face and she turned to Rachel.

“Thanks but I’m gonna turn in.” she said.

“You sure?” Rachel asked.

Hannah nodded.

“Ok, well, see you at breakfast then.”

Without a word Hannah walked through the resort and out the back door, just as Ari caught up with the group. He watched Hannah go before he looked around.

“We’ll debrief tomorrow.” His instruction was gentle, his eyes sliding back to the spot Hannah had been in seconds ago “It’s been a long night.”

The group nodded and Max muttered something about needing a snack before he and Jake took off to the kitchen.

“What happened?” Rachel asked “I mean, I got the jist of it but…” “Chord was round the baby’s neck.” Sammy sighed, “Hannah managed to unwrap it but it was too late. Poor thing had probably died well before we got to her.”

“Shit.” Rachel bowed her head, sighing heavily “That’s…” she trailed off and Sammy looked at her before she glanced back up at him “Are you ok?”

Sammy shrugged “It’s never nice.” He replied, having no other words to describe the situation.

Rachel gently squeezed his hand “I’ll go make the tea, Ari?”

“No thanks. I’m gonna go check on Hannah.” He replied. Rachel nodded and then turned to follow Max and Jake. Taking that as his cue to leave, Ari made for the door to the beach.

“Ari…” Sammy spoke softly and Ari spun to look at him. Sammy licked his lips “I know I don’t need to ask but…look after her, ok?”

“Always.” Ari nodded, smiling softly. Sammy gave him a small incline of the head before he headed off towards the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, Ari made his way out of the back of the resort and jogged up the sand towards Hannah’s hut.

He pushed the door open, before he stepped in, locking it behind him. He let out a chuckle as Simon jumped up at him, his tail wagging that hard it was a blur.

“Hey buddy.” He crouched down to give the dog some scratches “Where’s your mamma huh?”

It was a pointless question, as he knew where she would be. In the shower. His eyes glanced at the bed as Simon walked past Hannah’s discarded boots and hopped up, making his way to his favoured place, the pillow on the side Ari slept on. Ari rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed before he bent down to undo his laces. He shucked his hiking boots off and looked back a Simon, and as he did so something else caught his eye. Hannah’s night stand looked different. The lamp was on, there was the standard bottle of water, her book…but there was something missing. And as he racked his brains, trying to figure out what it was, it suddenly clicked. The photo of her and Andy, the one that had been taken in her Mama’s back yard was gone.

Ari didn’t quite know how he felt about that. On the one hand he couldn’t deny he felt, well maybe not pleased but a certain level of comfort or relief if that either of those were the right word at the fact that he no longer had to see Andy’s face when he woke up next to his girl in the morning. But on the other he felt a little sad. Both of them had lived lives with other people, it was a fact neither of them could escape and Ari wasn’t sure he wanted to either. That time apart had taught them things, things about themselves that had shaped their lives, moulded them into the people they were now. He licked his lips and stood up, headed over to the small bathroom at the back of the hut, gently pushing the door open.

“Han?” he asked softly, his eyes adjusting to the dim light from the feeble strip halogen on the ceiling and the sight in front of him broke his heart. Hannah was sat in the bottom of the shower, fully clothed, her arms hugging her knees to her chest, as she wept.

“Oh Firefly…” Ari sighed, crossing the small space and shuffling down next to her, the water soaking his hair and his clothes as he wrapped one strong arm around her. She turned to him, burying her face into his chest, her sobs wracking her small frame. “It’s ok, I got you.” He pressed a kiss to her sopping wet hair and simply held her, his hand rubbing up her back and her shoulder as she cried.

“I tried so hard…” she stuttered and he swallowed again, pressing his face into her hair.

“I know baby.” He said, “I know.”

How long he stayed there simply holding her, Ari had no idea and he didn’t particularly care. Nothing mattered to him, nothing but the girl he was cradling in his arms. Eventually her sobbing evened out and she pulled back slightly to look at him. Without a word she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips which he took, gratefully as he brushed her sodden hair off her face.

“You ready to get cleaned up?” he as softly and she nodded.

Ari stood up, pulling her to her feet and with gently hands he slowly undid the button down she was wearing before she shrugged it down off her shoulders, before he reached down and pulled the sodden tank top off her, which was clinging to her skin. With a quick and easy movement he shrugged his open plaid shirt off before he reached back and grabbed a handful of his wet t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Her eyes focussed on him, Hannah reached for his belt, her gaze falling downwards as she undid his belt then his jeans and he stepped out of them and his boxers in one movement, before he helped Hannah out of the clothing on her bottom half, which was harder work as her jeans were clinging to her thighs and legs. He held them still whilst she stepped out of them, kicking them to the floor of the bathroom and as Ari stood his hands trailed up the outside of her bare legs, coming to rest on her hips.

The moment was intensely intimate, the pair of them sharing a moment that was so raw, it was hard not to be aroused and as Ari looked at her, he saw a flash in her eyes. It wasn’t lust, it was softer, much softer, a pure love coupled with need and want.

He bent down, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth. “Turn around baby girl.” he whispered softly, against her mouth and without so much as a question she did as she was told. Ari reached up, flicked the clasp on her bra and pushed the straps forward, pressing a kiss to each of her shoulder, before he placed a gentle open mouthed one to her neck. Stepping back slightly, Ari reached down for Hannah’s shampoo and squeezed an amount onto his palm and gently began to work it into her hair. He felt her relax slightly, her shoulders dropping, the tension seeping out of her as he massaged her scalp softly.

Hannah gave a low sigh as she leaned back further so her head lay against his shoulder, her eyes closed. She relaxed completely as his touch soothed her, making her feel safe as his fingers softly worked into her hair.  After a little while his hands dropped to her hips and she allowed him to guide her round so she was facing him. His hand gently slid to her chin and with a gently nudge he tipped her head back slightly against the stream from the shower and he reached up, brushing the shampoo away from her face and down her long hair, causing her to press against him, her wet skin slick as it slid against his.

Eventually her hair was completely rinsed clear and he repeated the process with her conditioner and once her hair was done, her locks smoothed and tangle free she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

“Your turn.”

Ari turned around, dipping his head slightly as she gently wound her hands into his hair, nails scratching against his scalp, her body pressing into his back. When she’d finished he turned back to face her, dropping his head to rinse out his hair, taking the opportunity to simply look at her, taking in every singled damned detail. Those blue eyes, the curve of her nose, her high cheekbones, her plump lips, toned shoulders, that dip in her collar bone, the line the water was tracing between her breasts… as his eyes raised to hers he knew she’d spotted how unashamedly aching for her he was and she reached up with her hands, the pads of her fingers cupping his face through his beard. She guided his face down to hers where he captured her mouth in a soft, gentle kiss. He let her guide him, tell him how much she wanted, or how little she wanted, his hands simply splaying across the soft skin on her back and it soon became obvious exactly what she wanted when her hands moved to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair as her tongue explored his mouth.

Ari’s fingers flexed on her hips before they gently traced their way up her ribs and back down again. With a quick, strong movement he pivoted her round so her back was pressed against the rough, sand stone tiles and the kiss grew fervent, his mouth slanted over hers. He broke it, trailing his lips across her jawline and neck and Hannah let out a soft whimper as he softly sucked at that point where her neck joined her shoulder. One strong thigh anchored between her legs and he used it to push up gently against her spot and she let out a low keen, her head lolling back against the wall. Watching her reaction carefully, he repeated the action, both hands curling round her hips as he gently guided her movements back and forth, causing her to rub herself against the strong muscle of his thigh. It wasn’t wrong before she was controlling the rocking, pushing down harder as she rode his thigh and Ari rolled his foot up onto the ball, pushing his thigh harder into her and she gave a louder cry this time, the friction sending a hotwire straight up her core.

“Ari…” she gasped out his name as his lips nipped at her ear, his beard rubbing against the skin on her jaw “Need you, please…”

With an easy movement, he reached down and hooked his hands round the back of her thighs, lifting her up. Her legs wrapping around her waist as once more his mouth claimed hers as he lined himself up and pushed into her gently, her heels digging into the tops of his thighs just below his ass. His throat elicited a deep rumble as he kissed her hard, her hands gripping at his broad back as he began to pump in and out, his head falling to her collar bone where he gave a soft nip.

With each roll of his hips Hannah felt her pleasure beginning to mount, soft moans and mutters of his name falling from her lips as she dropped her head to his shoulder, the feeling in her stomach beginning to overwhelm her.

“Look at me Firefly” he said gently, and she opened her eyes, those ocean deep globes locking onto his as he saw her mouth open, lips part in a soft cry as she came, a deeper groan bubbled over in her throat and her head slid backwards against the wall as she succumbed to the pleasure that crashed over her in waves. Ari would never get tired of seeing her like that, ever. It was the most arousing thing in the world to him. His pace began to quicken, the tight bands in his stomach coiling further and further until they snapped as he pressed her harder.

“Hannah…” he half whispered, half gasped into her ear, nose nuzzling at her pulse point as he came, riding out his release with a few more shallow thrusts until his hips stilled and his head dropped to her shoulder, his breathing deep, his body and soul utterly blissed and consumed by her.

Ari kept her supported, feeling her shaking slightly with the afterglow, and raised his head, sliding his nose against hers gently, brushing their lips together ever so tenderly.

“I love you…” he whispered, before he pulled back to look at her as he gently set her on her feet, his hands cupping her face. She ran the tips of her fingers up his spine and into his hair, gently pulling his face down to hers.

“I love you too.” she replied softly, her eye shining as his mouth caught hers once more.

The water in the resort never ran at scalding level, but now it was colder than normal, and Ari felt Hannah shiver slightly. He reached round to turn the water off before he flicked his hair out of his eyes and stepped out, gabbing a towel. He held it out for her and she turned around so he could wrap it round her from behind, his arms holding her to him as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. She turned to look at him, giving him a gentle smile before she left the room and Ari grabbed another towel, quickly rubbing himself down before he wrapped it around his waist and followed her into the room where she was busy digging in one of the drawers. She stilled and gave a snort as she stood up and waved a pair of boxers at him.

“You moving in?” she quipped and he gave a chuckle.

“I didn’t put them there.” He held his hands up. “Must have been Rachel.” Hannah eyed him suspiciously and he gave a laugh “Scouts honour, Firefly.”

“I believe you.” She shrugged, tossing them to him and he caught them expertly in his right hand. “Thousands wouldn’t”

“Good job I don’t need to convince thousands then isn’t it.” He looked at her and she shook her head before she pulled out a pair of panties and a tank-top to change into. Ari dropped his towel, shimmied into the boxers and then shooed Simon off the pillow. The dog glared at him as he stood up and made his way to the end of the bed, flopping down with a loud huff. Ari followed his example, his head falling back against the pillow and he glanced over at Hannah as she pulled the loose tank over her head. He kept his eyes on her as she gently squeezed and dried her hair, picking up a brush, combing her waves out before she deftly braided it.

“You know, I reckon I could braid your hair…” she looked at Ari in the mirror as she stood up and he scoffed.

“You sound like Maya.” He said as she crawled over him, the pair of them climbing under the comforter before Ari turned off the light, his eyes once more glancing at the space where the picture had been. He settled down, debating whether or not now was the right time to bring it up but it was pushed from his mind as Hannah lay her head on his chest, one leg tossed over both of his, his hand gently tracing shapes on her upper arm.

“What’s it like?” her quiet voice broke the silence.

“What’s what like?” he asked, his nose brushing her temple.

“Having a daughter, a kid?”

Ari stilled and looked down at her “Han…”

“I just wondered.” She whispered quietly. “It must be amazing, you know to have this little person you made just there.”

“It is.” He nodded, his hand stroking her arm again “It’s also scary as fuck knowing that they’re gonna depend on you for everything. It’s life changing. Your entire outlook changes. Suddenly it’s all about them you know? Its hard work, stressful, but worth it. I wouldn’t change a thing about it.”

She stayed silent and he kissed her head “Did you ever talk about it? With Andy?”

“Once or twice.” She let out a deep breath “We never got the chance though. He always said he wanted a girl.”

“What about you?” Ari asked.

“I never really had a preference.” She mused “But I guess all women dream about having a boy who looks just like his daddy.”

She sniffed a little and Ari pulled her closer, kissing her head again “You know you’re amazing, right?”

She didn’t reply and he moved so he was led on his side, looking at her, his hand gently brushing a loose strand of damp hair behind her ear.

“What happened tonight wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.” She said gently, “I know that but…”

“Don’t torture yourself about it.” He urged her, his nose bumping hers “I’ve done that myself and nothing good comes of hit Han.” “You mean Andy?”

Ari took a sharp breath in which he released through his nose “Amongst other things.”

“I know you noticed”

“Noticed what.” He played dumb, but it was no use.

“The photo, Lobo.”

“Well, yeah but it’s not really my place to comment, Firefly.”

“I just felt it was time, you know.” She shrugged “Like, I don’t want to forget him. I never will but...well, you gotta move forward right?”

“Yeah, you do.” He nodded “All the time. You keep looking back over your shoulder at the past, you miss today as it unfolds around you. And as I always tell Maya, yesterday is the past, tomorrow’s the future…today is a gift, that’s why they call it the present.”

“That’s very philosophical.” She replied and he chuckled.

“I have my moments.” His chest vibrated with his quiet laugh and he pressed a kiss to her forehead “I mean it though. And that goes for everything.”

Hannah fell silent as she snuggled closer into him, her cheek pressing against his chest as his chin rest on her head.

“I can’t get her out of my head, Ari.” She said quietly, her voice catching “She was blue and, I tried, and…”

“Han…” Ari kissed her head as his arms pulled her closer, his hands rubbing at her back. “It wasn’t your fault.” “Everyone keeps saying that…”

“Because it’s true.” He urged, one of his hands slid round to her face and tipped her chin up so she was looking at him. The room was dark, bar the dim first light of dawn that was sneaking through the lattice shade above the head and he could just pick up the speckles of light in her sad eyes “And I’ll keep telling you until it sinks in. It was a horrible, horrible…accident, twist of fate, whatever. No one could have done anything more.”

“Then why do I feel so shitty about it?”

“Because you’re a beautiful, compassionate woman who cares.” he said, his lips pressing to hers softy “That’s part of the reason I wanted you here after all.”

“Only part?” she quipped through her tears “I knew it.” and Ari gave a soft huff of laughter.

“Well, I’ll admit there was a slight selfishness on my part too but, honestly? In the most it was because you were the right woman for the job.” She stayed silent as he reached up, his thumbs brushing the tears from her cheeks. “And I know that tonight was…well, it was fucking awful but…we gotta focus on the positives. Another 174 lives Firefly, and yeah, that doesn’t make up for the one we lost but…well, it’s gotta mean something yeah?”

“Maybe it will tomorrow, Ari, but right now, I just…”

Ari felt her sag in his arms and she pressed another kiss to her head “Try and get some sleep Firefly, you’re exhausted.”

“Bossy bastard” she mumbled, stifling a yawn and he shook his head.

“Stubborn jack ass.” He shot back and she gave a snort as she yawned again, snuggling deeper into his chest.

Ari’s arms kept her close, his large hands gently rubbing at her back until he felt her relax completely. After 5 minutes or so he glanced down, and could just make out her eyelashes as they lay against her cheeks, her breathing even. Pressing another kiss to her head, he peered down at Simon who had been stealthily creeping further up the bed to his current position of being curled in the space behind her knees.

With a smile at the ridiculous, almost domestic feel of the situation, given that it was as far from a normal domestic life he could leave, he closed his eyes and gave into his own feelings of exhaustion.

[writsgrimmyblog]

Rec List #1 Theme: 2018 Favourites

One of my fandom resolutions is to rec more in 2019. I’m going to post rec lists for some of my favourite Nick fics divided up by theme/content/ship or whatever I fancy throughout the year. It seems fitting that my first rec post of 2019 should be my favourite Nick Fics of 2018. If you’re interested in my Harry Potter themed recs, you can find them over on my other blog @writcraft under the tag #writ recs where I’m undertaking the same initiative.

This is by no means an exhaustive list - I’m limiting myself to ten recs per list and it is very difficult, I could have recced many more. I’ve read and enjoyed a whole raft of terrific stories and this rec list is simply based on my personal tastes which may not be everybody else’s cuppa. Please heed the content warnings the author has flagged on AO3 in each case, none of my recs include the content tags.

#1. Ten Track Sophomore Album by @junkshop-disco​ 

Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles | 4,228

Nick has always lived in noise, been the cause of a lot of it, but one day a boy writes him into a pop song and the whole world dissolves into static.

It doesn’t happen like that, not that easy, not that linear, but that’s the heart of it, the soul, if these things have such a thing.

My Rec: The Nick fic of 2018 is undoubtedly the final installment of junkshop-disco’s incredible Doodle of a Surface Life but that has quite rightly garnered so many recs by now if any Gryles reader hasn’t yet indulged, run, quick, what are you waiting for? I love DOASL with all of my heart, but I’m also a sucker for angst and I wanted to highlight this equally terrific fic in my rec list. The structure of this story, in which Nick loses his ability to hear music, is so cleverly done. It’s a very skilled writer that can create an entire fic around sound and make it come alive, and junkshop-disco manages it brilliantly. The fic reads like music, even as it describes the absence of it and it’s a stunning piece of writing. If you like your Gryles contemplative and angsty with confident, lyrical prose, this is the one for you. Junkshop-disco has such a terrific way with words I highly recommend reading all the works by this author. Every single one. But when you do make sure you take a moment to stop by this beautiful story and leave it all the love it deserves.

#2. Tell Me It’s The Strongest Shape by @louandhazaf

Nick Grimshaw/Elgar Johnson/Louis Tomlinson | 73,224

Nick and Elgar have it all. They’re famous, successful, and engaged to be married—and sometimes they play with others.

When uni student Louis gets street cast by Elgar for a GQ photoshoot, he's drawn into Nick and Elgar’s complicated relationship.

They've always invited mates into their bed. It doesn’t ever mean anything. Until… it does.

My Rec: This is such a great exploration of polyamory and the complexities of open relationships, and the author took a great deal of time developing the relationships between the characters and really working on highlighting some of those difficulties. I tend to gravitate towards fanfic where I care deeply about the characters, and although Elgar seems terrific I don’t have the same fannish relationship to him as I do to Nick and Louis so I was curious to know how I would respond to this fic. Basically, the author killed it. I felt such a deep investment in Elgar, Nick and Louis throughout and everything just flew by as I was reading. It’s also really fucking hot. Like, REALLY. Brilliantly done. I loved it. 

#3. Let The Boys All Sing And The Boys All Shout For Tomorrow by @lunarrua​

Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles | 18,429

It's February 1988. Thatcher is in power. There's a new drug sweeping through the clubbing scene. In Manchester, it's the eve of a major protest and a new musical movement. And when Nick finds Harry looking lost outside his favourite chip shop, it's the start of a weekend that will leave an indelible mark on both their lives.

My Rec: I saw the summary for this fic and actually yelled at my screen when it popped into my inbox. Gryles, set in Manchester in the 80s? Hell yes. The fic itself certainly didn’t disappoint, it’s absolutely beautiful. The author writes a well-researched, confident piece and the result is stunning. The atmosphere of the whole story is captivating and you can feel yourself transported to the heady days before the Manchester music scene shifted, the anxieties of the AIDS crisis and the fragility of the relationships formed during that period. The Harry of this fic has a transient quality which evokes the nostalgic reflection on a different time in our not so distant past. A real triumph. I loved this story with my whole heart. 

#4. Séjour by @silveredsound

Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson | 6,288

It is so quiet, which should be conducive to concentration, but Nick is bored and listless and lonely. He’s been there for two days and wants to know where the helpful lady is who’ll deliver him a gamine but takes-no-shit housekeeper who he can fall in love with without words. Words are not his friend.

“Where is my Love Actually moment?” he asks the ceramic kitchen sink as he pokes holes in the cover of one of the M&S ready meals he brought over with him.

«≠»

Nick’s got writer's block. Louis is a master of distraction.

My Rec: I’ve loved a number of stories by Silv this year and I was swinging back and forth between this and others, but there’s something about this little fic that has wormed its way into my heart and has taken hold so this is the one I’m choosing. As I said in my earlier reblog rec, this has such lush, evocative prose it perfectly captures the sense of a fleeting summer. There’s a seductive quietness to it, and a lovely unfolding of the story through snippets of tasting notes left by Louis on bottles of wine and Nick feeling a little bit lost and searching for words as he struggles with writer’s block. Two boys find one another in the warmth of a sleepy French town and it’s beautiful. Really wonderfully done.

#5. Fists & Flowers ‘Verse by @jiksax

Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles | 1,613 (Make It Worse) and 2,322 (I’ll Do What You Like (If You Stay The Night)

He’s looking at Nick with that soft, terrible look in his eyes, the look that tells Nick the two of them are probably something.

My Rec: If anyone other than Jiksa had told me they were planning an angsty fisting fic series I would have been like umm really? But of course, it’s Jiksa, so naturally I found myself sobbing at the raw, devastating intensity of the story. Jiksa deftly weaves the intensity of the physical act itself into the emotional tumult of Harry and Nick’s relationship in a way that’s incredibly beautiful. A bold, brave, superb piece of hot, confident writing, rich with emotional complexity. Gorgeous.

#6. Constantly on the Cusp by @shiftylinguini

Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson | 6169

It’s 5 in the morning, and Nick’s got an alarm going off, an unexpected bed full of pop star, and a nation to wake up.

It’s far too fucking early for this.

My Rec: UNFFFFF. I love Shifty’s writing. Like, an obsessive amount. I was so thrilled when Shifty started writing Tomlinshaw I didn’t know quite what to do with myself. It’s actually hard to believe this was Shifty’s first Tomlinshaw, because everything about the fic felt like they have been writing them for years. Louis is sleepy, horny and pissed off, Nick is awake, horny and wondering what it all means, and together they have this scorching hot, sexy moment. Nick’s internal monologue  gives us so much insight into their relationship and the fic offers a lovely, warm, hopeful moment at the end. Fantastically written and a sexy delight from start to finish. Loved it!

#7. this cookie’s baking by @disgruntledkittenface 

Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles (Genderswap Femslash) | 8,148

Harry’s eyes flicker between Nick’s eyes and lips. “I just want to be your–”

“Baby,” Nick says softly, cupping Harry’s jaw, “you already are.”

Nick and Harry have a long-overdue conversation.

My Rec: This was the first genderswap Gryles fic I have read and I absolutely loved it. The relationship between Nick and Harry feels so perfectly them and there’s a lovely warmth to the whole story. It’s light and funny but also contains moments of real emotional depth and those first time explorations and the hesitancy of admitting to being something more than friends is handled in such a terrific way. It’s a gorgeous story with wonderful writing and I loved every minute of reading it.

#8. let’s make some new rules by @camiii 

Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson | 12,743

A coffee shop, a Christmas party & a fake date to make sure no one gets laid at the end of the night.

My Rec: This was such an enjoyable read. I love camiii’s Tomlinshaw, and seeing this pop up was a wonderful surprise. Barista Louis agrees to be Nick’s fake boyfriend as he pines over an ex that definitely isn’t worth his time, and they become closer in the process. The pace of the story is wonderful, the flirting is brilliant and despite some misunderstandings and Nick’s no good ex trying to fuck things up, the ending is warm and hopeful. A lovely story, full of festive cheer. Thoroughly enjoyable.

#9. I’ll be seeing you by @daretomarvel​ / renlyne

Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles | 11,481

It’s 2028, and Nick’s bought a house.

My Rec: I love Ren’s writing and this Notebook inspired Gryles is a beautiful treat of a story, in which Nick starts buying little bits for his dream house. It’s hard to believe this story is just over 11,000 words because the world the author creates is so rich, detailed, layered and complex. The relationship between Nick and Harry has all of these gorgeous details and nuggets of history as it grows and develops, seedling-like, into something that might just be everything they’ve both been searching for. It’s a warm, hopeful, beautiful story but as it’s Ren, it manages to still tug at the heartstrings in the best kind of way. I read this again as I was putting my rec list together and did so with a lump in my throat, full of feels for the Nick and Harry of Ren’s universe. Gorgeous writing with bags of emotional intensity. I loved it.

#10. All I’ve ever had are love songs by @candybarrnerd / icarusinflight

Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson | 21,688

Things are finally coming together for Nick.

Nick is the DJ of his uni's radio stations, and he passively aggressively dedicates a song to Louis.

My Rec: Icarusinflight is another author who was already on my periphery from Harry Potter fandom who wrote their first Tomlinshaw fic this year and I was so thrilled to see them writing in this fandom and I’m very excited about their upcoming 2019 projects which also includes fics featuring the 1D boys in various ship combos. I love uni AUs and I hadn't read one for a while, so this was such a treat. I loved how Louis is sharp, sassy and confident but with niggling insecurities. Harry was so affectionately humorous in this story and Nick’s voice is wonderful. This is a really well-paced, enjoyable story with a hot af first kiss that deserves a mention all of its own. The music references, the tea and the cameos from various 1D members are all terrific and the writing is brilliant. Can’t wait for more from this author this year.

Bonus Rec: I was meant to limit this to just 10 recs but I also wanted to give a quick shout out to @nightwideopen. I’ve said this in previous rec lists before, but I am constantly impressed by the quality of @nightwideopen‘s writing and the way they explore things such as asexuality and gender dysphoria which can be harder to find in a relatively small fandom. I’d particularly rec so far (it’s alright) and i’ve been thinking lots about your mouth from this year, both Tomlinshaw.

[the-everlasting-dream]

Xin Teng - Liam x MC [x Drake], TRR AU

Part 2 of Unfathomable

Summary: The day they were supposed to have the funeral

A/N: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HEED THE TRIGGER WARNINGS!! We will be going into explicit confronting material about sensitive topics that can be triggering. 

Word Count: 4426

Warnings: Blood, mentions of death, miscarriage, description of injury, angst, grief. 

Permanent tags: @choicessa, @meeraaverywalker , @drakewalkerwhipped , @thewolvesss ,  @mfackenthal , @srawesleyghuewrites , @topsyturvy-dream , @enmchoices , @gardeningourmet @debramcg1106 , @alesana45 , @meladoridarcy, @blackcatkita , @tmarie82 , @annekebbphotography , @lizk77 , @jayjay879 , @tornbetween2loves , @akrenich , @theroyalweisme , @likethetailofacomet , @sleepwalkingelite , @littleblossom-18 , @ooo-barff-ooo TRR only: @speedyoperarascalparty , @carabeth , 

Unfathomable AU tags: @akrenich , @hopefulmoonobject , @wannabemc2 , @romanticheart-posts , @bobasheebaby , @sstee1 , @mrsdrakewalkerblog @furiousherringoperatortoad , @indicater , @h3llostrang3r , @innerpostmentality , @queencatherynerhys , @innerpostmentality , @drakewalkerisreal , 

 Xinteng 

noun 心疼 Chinese 

The Literal translation of heartache. The particular kind of sadness and pain that comes from witnessing and sharing the pain of people you love.

Liam stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar. Today wasn’t going to be easy. 

 Today he had to farewell his best friend of more years than he could count. There was nothing that could have prepared him for it. In his mind, Drake would have always been a part of his future, his best friend, trusted advisor and maybe even a member of the royal council, if he managed to talk him into it. Drake had been such a permanent fixture in his life, it was a core fact that he just knew. They would have been brothers for life, supporting each other until well after they were old and grey, there was no question about it and he had no reason to think otherwise until… now.. 

The reality of it finally seemed to hit him hard as he donned his outfit for the funeral —  a suit, all black — doing up each button seemed to take a colossal effort. His own blue eyes, hollow and stared back at him as he relived the thoughts and feelings of the last few days. The day they switched off the life support would haunt him forever, he knew that. It had been almost a week and he still felt everything so viscerally, almost like he was living it all again. Everything… Holding Elizabeth’s sobbing body as she tried to claw at the doctors... feeling frustration so intense he wanted to scream and never stop... begging and pleading with Drake to come back... feeling his pulse ebb away when he didn’t….

The emptiness was the worst…  emptiness that ate at him, slowly crawling its way under his skin to hollow out everything that could make him feel okay again… He marvelled at the immense impact that one person had, it was almost like Drake’s presence had left a huge hole in his soul that he had no idea how to begin to fill.  Sadness, pain and anger reared their ugly heads again inside him, tussling for which one would gain control over what was left of him. 

God Drake why did you have to-

The door opened abruptly and Liam brushed at the hot tears that has escaped him as his father's reflection appeared in the mirror. He clenched his jaw, willing himself to regain his composure, taking a deep breath before turning to face the other man.   

‘Father.’ His tone was cool. 

 ‘Son,’ Constantine replied in kind, eyes travelling over Liam’s figure ‘I see you’re ready for today… I can only imagine how tough this must be for you.' 

He was dancing around the subject — a subtle shift in his figure was enough to betray his ruse. Liam had to bite his cheek to prevent his face from morphing into disgust at his father’s gall to hide his ulterior motive for their conversation under the false pretence of affection. 

 ‘You’ve obviously come here to say something, Father,’ he replied, his tone measured as the tension between them thickened. ‘Just when I thought you’d come to comfort me on the day of my best friend’s funeral… I suppose I shouldn’t have been so generous with my assumptions.’ 

‘I suppose there’s not point beating around the bush..’ the old man replied, easing himself into the armchair. ‘Have you spoken to Duchess Elizabeth?’ 

 Liam scoffed, adjusting his cufflinks. ‘What do you think?' 

‘Don’t take that smart tone with me, boy,’ Constantine replied, voice restrained with fury. ‘The future of our country is at stake. We do not have the luxury of time. And I will not stand to see it be ruined by your indecision.' 

A deep rage flared up in Liam. 'For Pete’s sake, he was my best friend!’ He roared, not caring if he was heard throughout the palace. 'She’s his lover and today is his funeral. How can you possibly want me to bring up the subject of marriage?' 

'Liam I know its not ideal but we have to think of the future of our country,’ Constantine told him firmly, unperturbed by the outburst. 'Waiting is not a luxury one has as a monarch. The people look to the crown for stability. Duchess Elizabeth is the best insurance of that.’ 

He shut his eyes, swallowing hard, trying to keep his conflicting emotions at bay, like he’d done for all his life. ‘Why does it have to be her Father? Why are you so adamant that I marry her? Olivia, Madeleine, Hana Lee, hell even Kiara Castelsareillan or Penelope Portavira would be perfectly suitable for the role. Why do you insist on Elizabeth?’ 

 His father was already shaking his head. ‘You really want me to list it out for you? Fine. I’m sure I don’t need to reiterate how brash Olivia Nevrakis is, the people will never accept a Nevrakis on the throne, particularly after her parents’ betrayal. As for Lady Hana, there’s no denying she’s talented but the poor girl has no control over her feelings, anyone with eyes could see that she’s incapable of being with a man.’ 

Liam noted the bitterness on his father’s face after voicing that as Constantine continued. ‘If you hadn't made such a public spectacle of ending your engagement with Madeleine, perhaps we could have salvaged something of this mess, but nooo you had to announce it publicly.. Let's face it the other two are addled idiots anyway. Do I need to go on?’ 

He ignored the withering look his father gave him, turning away stubbornly. ‘Why can’t we just call for another season? Surely I-‘

‘Think Liam,’ his father hissed venomously. ‘Our royal court was just attacked in the palace, supposedly the most secure place in the country. The people are shaken, its only a matter of time before they come stampeding to the gates with torches and pitchforks, calling for our heads. We need a solution to this and now. Cordonia needs stability not the king spending their precious funds to pander to his indecision when the perfect candidate seems to exist already. As much as I hate to admit it, your precious duchess holds the people's favour something we desperately need right now after her performance during the social season. To them she represents stability and hope, two things even you have to recognise we are running short on.' 

Though he could understand his underlying reasoning, Liam couldn’t believe the words coming from the man he called his father. Did he seriously expect him to ask the love of his life to marry him on today of all days? How was he to even think of proposing to Elizabeth when Drake was barely in his coffin? 

 'Am I not allowed one day to grieve? To cry? To be a man first then a king?' 

‘Liam, like it or not you are the crown now. Everything you do is reflection of the crown’s intentions.’ Constantine was on his feet now, glaring back at him. 'You took a vow to protect this country and I will not stand by and watch you run it to ruin. If I have to take it into my own hands, so be it.’ 

 Liam narrowed his eyes. ‘Is that a threat?' 

‘I am not afraid to defend my country. By any means necessary.'

Tension crackled in the air around them. Both men stood toe to toe, locked in a standoff pulled to full height, Liam over his father by a few inches who glared back defiantly. His mouth was already opening to reprimand him when — 

 ‘Your Majest-'

‘What?!’ He bellowed at the young footman that opened the door, not taking his eyes off Constantine. ‘Can’t you see I’m occupied!?’ 

‘A-a-apologised Y-your M-majesty, it-its-its-,' The poor boy sputtered in terror unable to speak clearly. 

 ‘Well?’ Liam demanded impatiently, turning his head to zero in on him. 

 ‘I-Its the Duchess!’ The boy finally burst out. ‘She’s locked herself in her room and she won’t come out!’ 

‘This is preposterous! The stupid girl is having a temper tantrum,’ Constantine scoffed Liam spun on his heel, grabbing his father by the collar, rage in every word. ‘Speak one more word about Elizabeth and I’ll have you hanged for treason.’ 

 Ignoring his father’s protest, Liam ran.

-

His feet traced the steps to Elizabeth’s room of their own accord, shoving past staff members, barely acknowledging their grunts of annoyance and cries of surprise at their king dashing through the hallways like the devil himself was on his heels. No, he only had one objective in mind. 

 Elizabeth. Elizabeth. Why the hell was her room so far away?

Rounding the corner, he found himself standing at the locked door to her suite, Mara and the other servants pounding on the barrier. ‘Your Majesty we tried everything. We sent for a lock smith but she’s got something over the door on the inside,’ Mara reported, her hands red raw. ‘We’ve got security ready to scale the outside of the building, to come through the window.’ 

’Tell them to stand down,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll handle this.’   

The bodyguard did not look pleased but nodded once, raising a hand to her earpiece. 

 ‘Elizabeth?’ Liam called out, placing a hand on the door. ‘Its me… Its.. Liam. Are you okay?’ 

There was no response. Liam frowned in confusion. This was highly uncharacteristic of the Elizabeth Richmond he knew. Or maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought... 

‘Elizabeth, open up,’ his voice was more urgent now, unable to keep his mind from conjuring up the worst images. 

He raked over memories of the past days, trying to find something, anything that would clue him into why she was acting like this. He immediately cursed himself. How could she not be herself given all that had happened? But still he needed to know, he needed to see her with his own two eyes to make sure she was okay. And with every second that ticked by, the conclusions he was jumping to seemed to be worse and worse. 

‘Please. Elizabeth. Its Liam.’ Still nothing.

‘Leave me alone with her,’ Liam ordered before turning back to the door. 'Liz… please… Open up. I just… need to know that you’re okay…’ 

 He rested his head against the door and a faint sob could be heard through the wood. Alarm came flooding back into his face, galvanising him. 

 ‘Elizabeth open up or I’ll break the door down if I have to.’ 

 Liam’s senses tingled, strained to detect some sign, any thing to dissuade him. Receiving none, he sighed in resignation, before aimed a powerful kick at the door to the suite. His blow held so much force it struck the the offending — a chair — that had been holding the door shut and stepping over it, his eyes moved frantically over the unmade bed and seemly empty room. 

 The sound of another sob turned his head towards the closed door of the bathroom and springing it open, found Elizabeth lying in foetal position on the bathroom floor. He immediately moved to drop to his knees beside her before he slipped suddenly. He reflexively flung a hand out to support himself against the toilet bowl. After sufficiently steadying himself, he drew his hand back only to find it covered in… crimson. 

The dart of relief that was forming in his chest immediately vanished as Liam’s blue eyes took in the entire scene where the floor was covered in blood all originating from… Elizabeth's voice was softer than a whisper and coarse than sandpaper as she turned her fractured gaze to his, tears welling in her eyes. 

‘I… I-I… He.. Drake...’ She choked on his name, fresh sobs erupting from her body. Her hand clutched the toilet, leaving a smear of blood in its place before her arm gave out and she collapsed onto the floor, lacking the strength to even hold herself upright. ‘There’s so much blood…’ She croaked brokenly, eyes unfocused as she scanned the scene around her. 'W-why is there so much blood?'

Her words broke Liam out of his frozen stupor. ‘Elizabeth,’ His voice was hoarse as his mind slowly pieced together what had happened. Unable to tears his eyes away from the pool of red seeping out from under her legs, he swallowed hard, staring at his bloodstained hand. ‘You… you were…’   

Pregnant...

She shut her eyes, hissing slightly as the word hung in their air between them. ‘He didn’t know Liam. He… I-He died without knowing I…’ She wouldn’t finish without breaking into tears again and lost for words, Liam gathered her up into his arms as she wept, unable to stop big tears rolling down his face, knowing he only knew a sliver of what she was going through right now. 

On the day of the funeral too… 

His heart went out to her and the unfathomable suffering she was experiencing. He felt so infinitely useless, unable to provide any other comfort so he clutched her closer, as if the tighter he held on the more likely her pain would go away. He was painfully aware that there was nothing he could say or do that would ever be able to rectify what had just happened. So he held her on that bathroom, he held her close as she cried into his new black suit, blood staining both their outfits. Liam’s own emotions had worked up a storm inside him but he pushed them down for her sake. He couldn’t lose it too. Suddenly Elizabeth cried out as if in pain as more fluid began to leak onto the floor and when her skin touched his, the contact burned his skin. She felt scorching hot to the touch despite the shivers that wracked her body.

Liam cursed himself for not realising this sooner and shouted for a maid. 

‘Prepare the motorcade and have them ready to transport the duchess and I to the hospital. And bring Lady Hana here immediately,’ he commanded the girl who’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates at the sight. ‘Breathe a word of this to anyone and I will personally ensure that you live to regret it.’   

She bobbed once in compliance and rushed off. 

 ‘C’mon Elizabeth,’ he encouraged softly after god knows how much time had passed. ‘It’s going to be okay.. Its going to be okay.’

He had no way of knowing if it was going to be okay, he had no idea what would happen next but he couldn’t let her know the panic he was feeling. He shifted her hot body in his arms, worry seeping deeper into him. How long had she been like this? Surely it couldn’t have been good to lie on the bathroom floor - as clean as it may be - in this state. Liam had little medical knowledge but what if she’d caught some bacterial infection or something? She could be at risk for something serious and he had no idea. 

 ‘Someone get the doctor immediately,’ he bellowed, shifting Elizabeth again, her temperature soaring as she attempted to curl closer into herself. 

Through the panic he was feeling, Liam remembered vaguely that his mother had put him under a cold shower when he’d had a fever as a child to lower his temperature. He had no way of knowing if that was medically but he had to try. 

‘C’mon Elizabeth,’ he repeated. ‘I’m going to put you into the shower. We- we… I don’t know what I’m doing..’ Liam ran a bloodstained hand through his hair, not caring for his personal wellbeing, attention solely focused on getting her up and into the shower. 'Let’s get you cleaned up.’ 

Elizabeth made a noise of reluctance but eventually allowed him to lift her to her feet. He had just managed to coax her into the shower when Hana’s voice called out for him. 

 ‘In here,’ he yelled back from under the cold shower where he was holding Elizabeth, still fully clothed as he tried to keep his eyes off the blood that was draining off both of them. Hana appeared in the doorway instantaneously, a gasp escaping her at the sight before her eyes, scanning the mess in the bathroom. For a moment her lower lip wavered and Liam was doubting his decision to have her here before she straightened her posture and stepped into the bathroom, avoiding the puddles of blood and fluid on the ground. 

 ‘Here let me,’ she reached for Elizabeth and Liam was only too glad to ease her into her arms. ‘The doctor is on the way.' 

As Liam was exiting the bathroom to let Hana rinse her, his eyes caught sight of the toilet, where something bobbed in the bloodstained water.. 

This time Liam was unable to control his initial reaction, his stomach turning itself inside out, heaving its contents into the nearest rubbish bin. Swiping the back of his hand over his mouth, he stumbled out of the bathroom, surely leaving red footprints in his wake but in his stupor, he was barely able to think straight. 

 ‘Your Majesty-‘ Bastein and Mara were at the suite door, wide eyed at the blood on his clothes but he waved them off. ‘Where’s that fucking doctor?’ 

‘Right here Your Majesty, apologies for the delay,’ a woman stepped up and Liam couldn’t speak, merely pointing to Elizabeth's room.

‘Your Majesty you don’t look-' 

‘Madeleine!’ Liam bellowed, ignoring all attempts at his own wellbeing. 

The blonde woman materialised at the threshold with her ever enigmatic expression. ‘You called Your Majesty?’ 

‘Postpone the funeral. And clear my schedule for today and tomorrow.’ 

‘What am I your personal assistant?’ She scoffed, clearly unified by his stormy expression. 

‘I am your king,’ Liam growled, authority clear in his tone. ‘You will do as I say.’ The blonde woman nodded once and disappeared and he glanced at the crowd of servants gathered there watching the scene. 

'Breathe a word of this to anyone and I’ll make sure you all pay for it,’ he snarled, registering the fear in their eyes before they scattered. 

 He sank down into a nearby chaise, his head dropping into his hands and Liam wept...

He cried for Elizabeth, for the inexplicable pain she was feeling at losing not one but two people in such a short space of time. He wept for the child who would have been, who would have grown up to be a tiny copy of their father, a strength to their mother and comfort that the man she loved was still with her in some way. He wept for Drake who would never get to have the family he wanted and surely deserved, a life cut short by the sharp and unforgiving knife of fate. Feeling a synonymous sense of shame, Liam wept for himself too, for what he was expected to do for his country at the price of one woman’s happiness and stability.

He did not know how long he sat there, eyes staring blankly at the tiles, brushing off any and all attempt to comfort him until the servants bustled by barely taking notice of their king sitting so still he could have been a statue. His father’s word echoed back to him, about the need for stability and harmony through his marriage to Elizabeth but Liam knew now that he would never be able to ask that of her. The opinions of the people be damned, he thought angrily. They could change and they would. He’d marry someone else Olivia or even Kiara maybe, both who would be fine queens and — 

The door creaked open to reveal the doctor stepping out and Liam immediately stood up, giving her an expectant look. Her expression turned apologetic. 

 ‘As you are aware, Your Majesty Duchess Elizabeth has had a miscarriage. It is difficult to say how far along she was but my best guess would be less than three months.’ 

The words shook him to his core.. Three months ago would have been around the time of the homecoming ball, after he had broken off his engagement to Madeleine, he reasoned. Liam felt his stomach drop, he had no idea Elizabeth and Drake were so involved together at that point, in fact he had no idea of it until he’d seen her at his bedside before what he had suspected finally clicked into place. His stomach twisted into a tighter knot at the next words. 

‘You found her when she was mid way through passing the pregnancy tissue. Fever, chills, severe abdominal and uterine pain are common with a miscarriage like this one. It is hard to say whether she has contracted some kind of infection from sitting unprotected on the floor but I have briefed Lady Hana on the symptoms and she knows to contact a doctor should Her Grace be experiencing this.’ 

 ‘How is she now?’ Liam’s tongue felt thick in his mouth as he fought to swallow the doctor’s words. 

 ‘The rest of the pregnancy tissue should pass out in the next few days and there’s nothing I can do to make that process any faster. It is a matter of time. But for now she needs to rest Your Majesty. I would recommend bedrest for the next day or two and no strenuous activity while her body recovers. I have given her painkillers to help with the pain. She will require an ultrasound to ensure all the pregnancy tissue has been expelled and another checkup in about 4-6 weeks time.' 

He hadn’t realised how tense he was until the doctor placed a hand on his arm in comfort. 

‘It’s a tough thing to recover from but Her Grace has a good support system. She just needs people to be with her to remind her that she doesn’t have to do this alone. None of you do.’ 

 Liam nodded, hearing the doctor’s message. ‘I understand. Can I-can I see her?’ ‘Her Grace is resting but a few minutes wouldn’t hurt,’ the doctor — Dr Jaya Da Silva as her name badge read — smiled sadly, pausing for a moment before speaking again. ‘Go be with her. In times like these, you need hope. You need to give her that hope Your Majesty because in the end that’s all we have. Everyone knows Duchess Elizabeth has a way of pulling through in the end, you just need to remind her of it.’

He nodded once and turned to the room door where two maids with cleaning supplies were exiting. Unbidden his eyes flew to a small black plastic bag one of them was holding and his stomach turned violently, threatening to hurl at the sight of it. 

That was… 

Liam squeezed his eyes shut, wiping his sweaty palms on the front of his blazer — a gesture his stepmother would have surely chastised him for — and took a deep breath, willing the calmness people associated his kingly persona to return. Elizabeth lay on the bed, curled into ball, dark hair tangled across the pillows as Hana tucked her in. She barely acknowledged his presence, her eyes glassy and vacant, fixated loosely on the wall. He winced at the sight, taking in her bloodshot gaze and how her hands hadn’t quite stopped shaking.

‘Elizabeth…’ Her name slipped from his lips, as if it was never really meant for him. His mouth opened and shut a few times, at a loss for words. "How are you feeling?” wouldn’t really cut it in this situation; he could not even begin to understand the pain she must be in. 

 ‘You postponed the funeral,’ she said finally, almost in an accusatory tone. ‘Why?’ 

Liam sighed, running a hand through his hair. ‘Elizabeth... you can’t. You’re in no condition to..’ 

‘I can,’ she retorted, struggling to push herself up on one hand. ‘I can and I will.’ 

‘The doctor ordered bedrest, she said it would take a while for-‘ 

‘I don’t care! Stop. Stop it okay!’ She was in a sitting position now, glaring at him with a venom that he’d never seen before. ‘It needs to go on, I have to… I have to…  I want to see him laid to rest.. I wanna see him one more time before-‘ Her voice gave way to sobs. 

 ‘Elizabeth…You’ve already gone through so much today. You need to rest.’ 

‘I need to see him Liam,’ she was crying again, loud, messy sobs as huge globs of snot flowed out of her nose but she swiped it away with her hand before holding up a menacing finger towards him. ‘Fuck you and your entitled ass for not letting me.’ 

He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off. ‘Tell them the funeral is back on Liam. Tell them or I’ll never speak to you again.’ 

'If it comes to that, so be it.’ 

She yelled at him, screamed, cursed him with every profanity under the sun, swearing on all she knew to be sacred that she would never forgive him but Liam stood his ground. He dragged his blue eyes to her dark ones, knowing she was in extreme pain and it was just the grief talking. She was already unstable, if he did as she said… who knew if she would ever recover. 

‘Hate me all you want,’ Liam continued in a voice he did not recognise as his own. ‘I’m only doing this for you own good.’ 

‘You fucking bastard!’ she yelled back as she struggled to get to her feet, before giving way to a sharp cry of pain, her hand flying to her abdomen. Hana immediately rushed to her side but Elizabeth swatted her away. ‘Get off me, let me go Hana!' 

The other woman turned her pleading eyes on Liam, begging him to relent so that Elizabeth would be calmed but he stood his ground.

‘So help me Elizabeth if I need to lock you in this room I will.’ 

What was happening to him? He sounded just like his father, placing this innocent woman in even more pain. But Liam had no choice, he had to do what he felt was right. 

 ‘I’m doing this for your own good,’ he replied forlornly as she collapsed back on the bed in exhaustion. Shutting the door behind him, Liam leaned against the wood, closing his eyes as tears rolled down his cheeks, hating himself for what he just did. The sound of her protests filtered to him as the echo of his father’s words sprang to his mind, both battling on his conscience. Elizabeth was already in so much pain. 

How could he burden her with the crown too?

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